I will follow him
by SheyRicci
Summary: Jason's really gotta stop saying, 'what could go wrong.' Because whenever Clay's involved...
1. Chapter 1

Bear with me, ya'll…..military lingo and rank and what/who constitutes a team? Is made up!  
My usual disclaimer - medical inconsistencies.  
Taking a break from my beloved Octane/Turbo, and Sixties on Six was playing this song...and bam, this story popped right in my head. I LOVE Sirius!

* * *

"So," Ethan pulled out a chair, sat himself right down at Clay's table. "How's it going Spenser?"

Ethan Dauphin.

"Haven't seen you around much lately," he leered at Stella. "How's Bravo team? Rumors about Hayes true? He a dick?" he held his beer out, but Clay didn't pick his up to tap in greeting. "Hello sweetheart."

Stella ignored him.

They'd come through Green Team training together. They'd even managed to get along – most of the time. Things had turned sour between them when the rumors had begun that Hayes and his team were arguing amongst themselves whether or not Spenser would join them.

Not an argument over who would be selected. That decision had been made before training was over. There'd been no doubt in anyone's mind that Clay wouldn't be in the top three. The question had been; would Hayes agree with what the rest of his team wanted?

"Ethan," Clay picked up his beer, took a sip. "How's Delta?" with care, he kept his tone neutral. A lot of, uh, people had issues with Jason Hayes.

Though Ethan had never voiced his desire to join Bravo or be their selection, Clay knew it was there. Speculation had run rampant, the talk, the rumors. Everyone had said they doubted Hayes would choose someone so young, bets had been placed, Ethan believed it….and then Hayes had gone ahead and chosen the youngest of the lot – Clay Spenser. And that had been the end of any friendliness from Ethan Dauphin. Clay didn't miss him.

Ethan Dauphin had been chosen second, making him – in his mind – second best. It didn't matter that Delta, the team who had taken him, had wanted him before any other recruit. He was still bitter.

What pissed him off was hearing from his Chief that once Hayes had decided to give his team what they wanted – Clay Spenser – nothing and no one would have stood in his way from obtaining it. Yeah, sure, Bravo had first pick in this year's draft, and no, it wasn't because Nate had been killed, but even if they hadn't had the pick, had Hayes wanted Spenser, he would have gotten him.

Why? Because Lieutenant Commander Eric Blackburn gave Jason Hayes whatever the fuck he wanted: Lisa Davis in logistics – done; assigned to the CIA - done; Amanda Ellis as their CIA liaison – done; a dog in their unit – done; a support team of fifteen Seals – done; the same doc on deployment – done.

"You guys on break? Ethan helped himself to the bowl of pretzels. "You sure do have good taste in girls Spenser. Hey there pretty lady, Stella, right?"

"Have we met?" She asked sweetly, avoiding direct eye contact.

"We have." Ethan grinned, but his eyes were cold. "Don't you remember, doll?"

"Thought you guys had deployed." Clay said calmly. They were in a public bar. Ethan wouldn't start any shit. "Syria, wasn't it?"

"Delayed. Care to dance?" he asked Stella. Why, he hadn't been told.

"No." she said no more. Not even a 'no, thank you'.

"I don't think your lady friend much likes me." Ethan said to Clay, giving Stella a wink. "Thought you guys were going to Yemen." Maybe Spenser knew more about who was deploying where than he did. And if Spenser did, well, that would just piss Ethan off more.

"I don't." she pushed back her chair and got up. "Be right back, then I'm ready to leave."

Ethan watched her leave, then crossed his arms on the table, leaned forward. "Come on Spenser, what gives? Huh? Not asking for any secrets. Just wanna know." He was quiet a moment. "Weren't for you, I might be with Bravo."

Since Clay wasn't rising to the bait of 'hit on or insult girlfriend', Ethan tried another tactic to get under his skin.

"It's a job." Clay looked at his watch. Still early, but Stella was right, time to leave. A job Ethan would have been fired from. Well, transferred out of to another unit. He and Jason would never get along. And Sonny? Pfft. "I have a Boss, where he leads, I will follow." he took a last drink of beer, put the bottle down. "Didn't know you wanted Bravo."

"Eh, just meant, if you weren't in the class, and they took the best of the group," Ethan shrugged. Left unsaid was, he thought that was him. "Those five are tight. Took the loss of one of their own pretty hard, wouldn't you agree?"

And it still wouldn't have been you. "I would."

"Was it Hayes's fault?"

Clay blinked. "Wow. Where's that coming from? Why would you think Jason's responsible?"

That threw Ethan completely off-guard. He sat back. Jason? Clay called his team boss by first name? Talk about wow.

"You were hurt, your last mission out, right?" Ethan prodded. "How'd that happen? Hazard of being the new guy, huh? They go to Yemen without you?"

"No." Clay replied, but didn't specify what he was replying to. "Buy you a beer?"

"They ran as a team of five for months." Ethan sat forward again, "Sonny, the explosives expert; Trent, the medic; Brock, the dog trainer; Ray, the mechanic; Jason, the leader. So, what does that make you? Other than being fluent in a couple languages? Sniper? Best shooter in training was you. They're all rated as shooters, you better than them?"

"Trent's not a medic." Clay looked around for the waitress. What the hell was Stella doing? Good Grief.

"They took you with them once. And they could have taken any of their support team…..course, no one breaks into their circle easily, do they?" Ethan tapped the beer bottle on the table. "But you did."

Ethan was frustrated and Clay knew it, though Ethan did a damn good job of hiding it and appearing unruffled.

"No one on Bravo got pissed 'cause you waltzed right onto the elite team of 6?" Ethan sneered, the veil of civility gone. "You know, despite the other fifteen guys on the support team? Find that hard to believe. Gotta hand it to him though….he has the loyalty and trust of his men. Not even anyone on Bravo support has anything to say."

"Jason doesn't tolerate attitudes." Clay tossed a ten on the table and got up, Stella lingered by the door. She wasn't coming back. "Enjoy the round coming."

Clay joined Stella, who didn't return Ethan's wave and together, they left the bar.

"Jason Hayes. Fucking prick. What is it about you that makes your men follow you blindly?" Ethan sat back, alone with his beer.

*** _three days later_ ***

"Called in?" Stella asked. Clay's phone was on vibrate, but still, she heard it.

He got up, looked at it, put it down, walked away. Returned, picked it up, sent a text and put it down.

"Time to leave for Yemen?"

He shrugged.

"There isn't…" she paused. "Does the U.S. even have an official base there?"

"No."

"You don't have to go." She reminded him. "The doctor cleared you to return to mild activity. I don't think he meant, fly to Yemen."

"Doesn't work that way." Clay gave her a lazy grin. "They delayed deploying until the doc declared me able to return to work. He cleared me. Time to go."

"Dunno why they just couldn't go without you." She grumbled. "They did plenty of missions without you."

"I wasn't on the team then." He chucked her chin. "This is my life, you're good with that, remember? You'll keep busy with your students, won't even miss me."

"When do you leave?"

And on cue, someone pounded on his door. "Time to go Sugar Pie!" Sonny bellowed.

"Now?" She asked incredulously. "Like….now, now?"

"He's, uh, my ride."

"Where did he text you from? The parking lot?" she pouted petulantly. "No time for a proper good-bye?"

Clay sighed, holding her shoulders. "I'm packed Stella, and he didn't call me in. Blackburn did, twenty minutes ago." he hesitated. She wasn't going to take this next bit well, and he didn't want to leave with a fight between them. "I texted Sonny to come pick me up."

"Zip it up kid! Meter's running! Let's go! We….oh, hey Derek, sure, I'll take a beer. Five minutes Spenser!"

"He's having a beer and he's driving?" she moved away. "Wait, you texted him for a ride? I'm right here! I would have taken you."

He chewed on his lips, ran his hands through his hair. "Uh, they…..um…..aaah." he blew his breath out. Stella had been staying with him since his return from his last mission. The guys had given him space, but they were never far away. Derek was just across the hall. Not Bravo, Alpha, but still a spy for Bravo when called upon. "They…..won't…..shit," he turned away, picked up his phone.

"Spit it on Clay." Stella demanded. "I can't see you off? You sneak around? Can't tell me you were called in? You're deploying now?"

"The doc cleared me medically to return. You knew I could be called to go at any time." he sighed. "And the guys are still a little shaken Stella, over what happened on our last mission. They kinda aren't letting me out of their sight, you know?"

"The letting you get blown up? That event?"

"Wasn't blown up. We all took a hit from that blast." He kissed her nose. "And they didn't let it happen. We'll Skype."

"You were hurt the worst."

"Bruises, nothing broken. Didn't even lose skin."

"Yet, you were first, took the brunt, thrown pretty damn hard."

"I wasn't first. I, uh, wasn't even with them. Not really. Sorta though." He couldn't make her understand because he couldn't explain the mission. "We good?"

"How long will you be gone? Or can't I know?"

"I don't even know. Two weeks?" he guessed. "I'll let you know when we're on our way home."

"You've been out of their sight since you got home." She pointed out. "I don't understand any of this."

"I've seen them every day on base. I wasn't medically cleared to fly out on another mission, but I went to work." He argued. "Derek's across the hall."

She mulled that over. "Don't come home on a gurney this time."

"Didn't last time." He teased, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

"Mmmm. Maybe you walked _off_ the plane on our soil, but you didn't walk _onto_ it on theirs."

She had him there.

"Gotta go. I'll call when I can." He gave her a kiss good-bye and opened the door. Sonny stood right outside, munching on a taco.

"Stella Bella." Sonny greeted. "Ready? Good thing I know a short cut. Don't wanna be late." He waved at Derek. "Thanks for the bite. You ready kid? I know, you're wondering why we ain't letting him let you take him to see him off. Don't worry, we'll take good care of him. Trust us. Easy-peasy trip. We'll bring him back."

He spoke so fast, jumping from one topic to another, Stella's head spun. Before she could think of something to say, they were gone. The door closed behind them and she fell against it, locking it. How was she supposed to get used to this?

"Suck it up girl." She scolded herself. "Women all over this country do this every day. You can too." But man, it hurt to watch him leave and not be the one to see him off at the base's airport.

()

"How you feeling kid?" Sonny asked. "Doc said you're ready, you feel you are?"

"I'm good."

And the team agreed. There'd been more than one discussion about it. No need to tell Clay that though.

"Still, take it easy on us old men, you hear?"

"How well do you know the Chief from Delta?" Clay asked.

"Odd question," Sonny said after a moment. "What's up?"

"Came up through Green with a guy," Clay shrugged, looking out the window. "Saw him the other night, probably nothing. Just odd."

"Yeah." Sonny agreed and blew it off. He turned the conversation towards pretty girls and short good-byes, but tucked the information away for further exploration at a later time.

"Who's the girl of the week?" Clay accepted the change in subject. "Shelby?"

"Denise."

"How many girls ago was Shelby?"

"Huh…2? No, no….3…I think."

Dusk was settling, by the time everyone got on board and they were airborne, it would be time to sleep. Clay was okay with that, he still tired easily, so he hoped the guys weren't up for beer and cards. The hammocks weren't the most comfortable bed to sleep in, but Clay actually enjoyed the way they rocked and swung with the motion of the plane.

Once on board though, he realized he didn't have to worry about taking a ribbing from the guys if he begged out of the card game. Jason was in a mood, Eric was arguing with Mandy, Lisa was indisposed, Ray was already asleep and Brock and Trent were playing chess.

"Nice of you to join us," Eric greeted them, glancing at his watch. "Cutting it close."

"We ain't late." Sonny protested. "Nope, you said arrive by 8….it's only quarter 'til. We're early."

"Not in the mood for your humor Quinn." Mandy said testily. "So, don't start."

"Ouch. What put your panties in a twist?'

When neither Jason nor Eric reprimanded him for the crude comment, Sonny whistled, looking around at everyone on the plane.

"Okay…..what'd we miss?" Sonny asked. "Boss?"

"It's a long flight, get some rest." Eric said.

"You're good Quinn." Jason patted his shoulder. "Long day."

"Give the order for take-off." Mandy told Eric. "We've delayed long enough." She avoided making eye contact with Sonny, but he wasn't about to let it go.

"That supposed to mean something?" and like that, his tone turned from jovial to hostile. He looked from Eric to Jason to Mandy to Jason. "The fuck's going on?"

"Yeah, it means we're two days behind….." Mandy began but both Eric and Jason were on their feet.

"Don't start this shit again Ellis." Eric warned. "I'm tired. I want to go to sleep, not rehash this again. We've been through it. Finished it. Moved on from it. Now get over it."

Clay got it. She was pissed because Jason had made the decision not to go on her pet mission until Clay could go with them. He murmured something unintelligible and with his head down, moved off to claim his hammock.

"Uncalled for Mandy." Jason said quietly. "I told you to get another team if you didn't want to wait. Delta delayed deployment while you made up your mind, you could have left on your preferred date with them."

"And I told you there was no need for Bravo to wait." She shot back. "You could have agreed to go on schedule."

"Wait, leave the kid behind and go without him?" Sonny cut in. Tension wasn't thick, but things could easily get heated. "Why would we do that when you could have taken another team?"

"Sonny, I got this." Jason waved him on. He too, was tired and ready for bed.

Sonny wasn't appeased, but he followed his boss's unspoken request to move on and went to find Lisa.

"Am I going to get the cold shoulder and snide comments this whole trip?" Mandy asked rudely. She was tired, stressed, under pressure from the man temporarily her boss. She didn't need shit from Jason and Eric.

"Doc didn't clear him." Jason was in his 'arguing stance', hands sitting lightly on his hips. "I told you we weren't going without him."

"Enough!" Eric barked. "You were given your options Ellis, you chose, now live with it or get off the plane."

"Get off the plane?" She stood her ground. "It's my mission!"

"It's a CIA mission." Eric corrected her. "I don't want to hear another word about this. You could have chosen any of the other seven teams, you didn't. Like Jason said, Delta was available. You agreed to wait until Bravo could go. We're going. Are we done?"

She fumed, arms crossed.

"Mandy, come on." Jason pleaded. "What would you have me do? Abandon the kid? Leave him behind? The doc said he'd be ready to return in seven days, and that put us two past your deadline. I told you to go with Delta."

"Stop throwing Delta in my face." She snapped. "He's your sniper Jason. You may not label him that, but it's what he is. He shoots to kill. But he's going to let it bother him, and you're going to let him?"

"This again?" Eric rubbed his head. "Really?" he blew his breath out. "The doc didn't bench him for a week because his head was fucked up – and by the way, it wasn't. He was ordered seven days rest because, in case you don't remember, he was blown up. How the hell he didn't break or majorly injure some part of his body is beyond me. Find a way to deal with it."

"Picking teenage kids off is going to bother anyone. He's past it so get off his back." Jason added, pleased Eric was taking such a hard stance with Mandy. "He's stiff and sore and bruised and he's here. That ain't enough for you?"

"Kids with guns that blew you up." She reminded him. "You ran as a team of five for weeks, you could have….."

"Because we were a team of five, now we are six." Jason cut in. "Mission calls for haste and immediate deployment, we go with who's healthy and capable. This mission doesn't qualify."

()

Cerberus padded over to lie at Clay's feet. She nudged his hand until he scratched her ears.

"She's on the rag." Trent leaned across the row of chairs and back-handed Clay across the knee, a show of support. "They both are….OW!"

"Why do you have to be crude?" Lisa unrolled the magazine she'd just used to whack Trent across the back of his head. "We prefer the term Aunt Flo is visiting."

"The hell, Davis!" Trent scowled. "Didn't have to hit so hard!"

Lisa grinned. "How you feeling Clay?"

He shrugged. "I'm good."

"It's not personal kid." Brock said. "Well, it is. But not you."

"What are you making a muddle of this time?" Lisa rolled her eyes. "You sure you're okay Clay?" She plopped down on a cooler. "Haven't seen you since we got home. You sure are one lucky sonofabitch, you know that? How you keep getting hurt, yet not seriously, is beyond me. You know?

He nodded. "Serious or not, it sure as hell hurts."

"So, why you so gloomy? Stella pouting you leaving at night?"

"Ms. Ellis." Trent told Lisa. "Sprouting off again."

"Aah, yeah, we're late leaving? Should have been there two days ago? All Clay's fault?" Lisa laughed. "She's pissed, but not at you Clay. The guy filling in for her boss is a dick. Hoping he doesn't get the position permanently." She shuddered. "None of us will be happy, that happens."

"She's never been told no by Jason before." Brock explained. "This trip, mission, job, is merely recon, but it's to get enough information she can go after Taha Fasih."

"She's been denied the green light three times." Trent moved a pawn. "She got this 'excursion' approved on intel from a field interpreter."

"Jason agreed to go when we were in Pakistan. The date was set, but the mission in Pakistan went wrong, you were hurt, we missed the dead line to leave." Lisa said.

"So, when Jason said you weren't medically cleared to leave on the scheduled date, she had a shit fit." Brock removed Trent's pawn. "But Jason didn't budge. She was afraid they'd pull the plug on her again."

"When she couldn't talk him into going without you, she tried talking him into letting you leave earlier than the doctor approved." Lisa shook her head. "He didn't go for that either."

Trent moved his bishop. "He gave her three options: take another team, wait for his or cancel the mission."

"You know what she chose." Lisa said. "Here we are."

"Why's boss junior asleep?" Sonny joined them, reaching for the magazine Lisa held. "Hell, engines haven't even revved up yet."

"Uh, infant at home," Lisa reminded him.

Clay glanced over where Jason, Eric and Mandy still stood and talked - argued. All seemed calm, but he didn't really care. Giving the dog a final pat, he took a pillow and blanket from the pile near the hammocks and headed off to his own.

"You sure he's okay?" Lisa asked. "Doesn't seem himself."

"Meh." Sonny blew it off. "He's moody. Stella gave him shit 'cause I picked him up and she didn't get to bring him. Let him go."

()

"We good?" Eric asked. "I'm not ordering take-off until this is settled."

Mandy nodded, shoulders drooping. "I'm sorry Jason. I'll apologize to Spenser."

Jason chewed whether or not to let her off the hook so easily. "You do that, then leave him alone." He finally said. "Give him some space."

Eric finally moved off to give the pilots the order for take-off. Jason gave Mandy a hug and she went to find Clay.

"Hey boss." Sonny wandered over. "Who's Delta's chief these days?"

"What?"

"Did anyone come up through Green with Spenser that Delta took?" Sonny persisted. "They chose after we did, right? Anyone they wanted?" he paused. "Other than Spenser?"

Jason gave him a 'what the fuck' look, but ran a hand through his hair as he thought about it. "Aah, yeah, I guess." He hadn't given anyone else much consideration. Ray and Sonny had been adamant about wanting Clay, Trent and Brock were cool with the kid, and despite the kid's ego and attitude, Jason had known the kid would be a good fit with his team.

"Yeah, they took the Dauphin dick."

"Dick?"

"Mmmmm. Spenser's cocky, I can deal with that, but Dauphin's bitter, resentful. Delta's welcome to him."

"And their chief is who again?"

"Collett. Why?"

Sonny hesitated. He'd thought to talk it out with Ray, but the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. "You get along with him?"

"I get along with everyone." Jason cracked, then sobered when Sonny didn't take the bait. "Spill."

"Just a head's up. Spenser didn't say who, but someone he trained with on Green Team approached him the other night, he's on Delta."

"Dauphin." Jason nodded. He was well aware Dauphin had wanted on Bravo. "Doubt anything will come of it."

Sonny nodded and moved on.

Jason sighed and took a seat on one of the rubber chairs bolted to the wall. He should buckle in, the engines were revving, but eh. Even if the take-off was rough and bumpy, he didn't have far to fall if he was thrown out of the seat.

This job was supposed to be light and easy. That was why he agreed to it. He was counting on it to ease Clay back into 'work'. The kid had scared the hell out of him after the blast that had sent him flying, the way he landed, the way he hadn't moved, the way he hadn't responded.

If there was a reason, a way, or a why, to get hurt or sick or injured, smacked down, lost or left behind, Clay sure as hell went and found it.

He so didn't need issues or conflict with another team. Not again. Not now. Not when every time he looked at the team's 'rookie', his belly dropped and his palms sweated. Hell, he'd be honest; he needed an easy mission probably more than Clay did.

Jason laid his head back, closing his eyes against the mental scene that kept flashing through his head: Clay coming steadily towards them, shooting to kill – not incapacitate, one after the other, not caring they were young, barely out of their teens. His team was pinned down and he was their defense, their only out. And then bam! - The ground exploded all around them, Clay was blown off his feet, landing face-first several yards away….and they hadn't been able to get to him right away.

"Buckle in." Eric took the seat next to him, handed him a beer. "Long flight."

"Guys will sleep."

"Will you?"

"Who? Me? Don't fuss, I'm good." He buckled in, took the beer.

"Here's to an uncomplicated, easy seven day tour." Eric tapped bottles.

"Eh, what could go wrong?"


	2. Chapter 2

Never fear ya'll...hang in there...your requested 'Clay whump' is coming next chapter(s)...I promise!

* * *

The flight had been long and bumpy. They'd had to fly around a storm, through turbulence and circle the airstrip until cleared for landing. By the time they were finally on the ground, everyone was ready to get off the plane and seek a proper bed.

Clay's previous enjoyment of the gentle swaying in his hammock from the motion of the plane had deserted him over some ocean or sea somewhere. He was so stiff and sore and cramped when it was time to get out of it, Brock and Ray had to dump him onto the floor then pick him up.

"You good?" Brock asked, Ray had let go and moved off. Clay nodded, rubbing his eyes then shouldered his bag and limped towards the cargo door as the ramp was lowered.

Bravo support was left to unload the plane while Jason and his team, along with Eric and the girls were escorted to transport and driven to their barracks on base.

Though it was more or less early evening, or late afternoon, or maybe midnight, depending on who was going by what clock where, no one had gotten much sleep on the flight, so a meal was skipped in favor of a stationary bed.

"Not much here." Ray commented, lingering outside the tent after the others had gone inside to select bunks. "Not even barracks. Just tents. Feel like I'm on the set of M.A.S.H."

"It's a recon job. We're here a week," Jason cast a dubious eye over the encampment. "We'll scout the, uh, camp out after a nap. You wanna do it now, go ahead, I'm crashing."

"Kid's pretty stiff." Ray commented, having watched Clay gimp towards the tent. "Not moving too good."

"We'll chase him down, throw him in tub with Epsom salt." Jason yawned. "Later though."

"Yeah, sure." Ray snorted. "Like there's a tub here."

Even the dog crashed. She ignored the blanket Brock put on the floor for her comfort and jumped up on his bunk, daring anyone to make her move. No one did.

()

Eric was just as tired as the team was. He had his own tent in the officers quarters, but it afforded little privacy. The canvas walls did not, in any way, dull sound. Didn't matter, he was tired enough to sleep through any and all noise. He tossed his duffel onto the desk and sat down on the bunk to unlace and remove his boots.

Maybe it was time he talked retirement with his wife. God Bless her, she'd been with him, gosh, since, well, since she was eighteen, he nineteen. He'd put over twenty-five years in, in the Navy, hell, near thirty, he could retire with full benefits, get a civilian job, stay home…then again, the reason he'd been happily married for over thirty years was because his wife was quite content being left home alone. He should call her, let her know they landed safely...he was still on Virginia time...so it was...eh...

"Lieutenant Commander Blackburn?" someone had the nerve to be outside his tent, calling his name. "Sir?"

"Go away." Eric hand-combed his beard down, there was no hope for his hair. "I'm taking a nap." he knew he wasn't going to gain the desired peace and sleep he wanted.

"I'm sorry sir, your presence is requested – required – at command."

"We just landed." Eric complained. "They've been out of my sight 10 minutes. There's no possible way any of them could have found the time to raise a ruckus." He held his head with both hands. "Can't be done. Not even by them."

But he knew his team and knew very well it could be done. Had been done. Would be done again. He'd bet his house it was Quinn. Jason hadn't been in any mood to curtail Sonny's antics.

"Sir?"

"They're tired. They went to bed." He groaned, getting to his feet. He put his boots back on and joined the young soldier outside his door. "Lead the way." He was disheveled, sloppily dressed, in need of a shower and hadn't bother to tie his boots. They demanded his presence now – they'd get him as he was.

Mandy was in command center when he entered. He blinked in surprise, accepted the cup of coffee she handed him and refused the invitation to take a seat.

"What's this about?" Eric asked tiredly. Coffee at this hour? He was going to be here awhile. "Who's the suit?"

"Murray, my, uh, boss." She whispered. "You're not going to like it."

"I'm in no mood Ellis." He warned. "Who did what when? Spenser sick or hurt or lost again?" That kid was gonna be the end of him. See him into retirement. "We just landed, there's no possible way they could have lost that kid this fast. I came with them from the airport, I saw them to their tent…." He scratched his jaw, felt grey hair growing, Jason's beard had gone grey after the kid had joined the team…...hmmmmmm.

"Delta's here." Mandy was saying, finger to her lips to keep him from blowing up. "Ssssh."

He blinked, jaw clenching. "What?" was all he could say when he could manage words. He put down the cup of coffee. It would curdle his stomach were he to attempt to drink it now. "On whose orders?"

"Lieutenant Commander Blackburn, welcome."

Eric didn't know this high brass asshole on sight, but he recognized the man's rank. "Admiral."

"Our apologies for, erhm, rousting you from your….aah, bed," The insult was delivered with a long, disapproving look but Eric didn't attempt to do anything to make his appearance neater. He didn't care what they thought. "But then," pause, "you arrived later than we expected you."

"I'm aware of our arrival time, sir." Eric responded tersely, guarded, ready for a surprise attack. What the hell was this all about?

"Your take off was delayed then?"

"It is at minimum, a 15 hour flight sir." Eric replied with fake politeness. The damn asshole well knew they'd been late taking off. Might not know why, but he knew, the fucking prick. "I do regret to inform you the storm we encountered refused to obey my commands to halt and desist, allowing us safe passage through it. It insisted we fly around it and we were forced to oblige."

"Eric, this is Admiral Brause." Mandy hastily introduced the two men. "He expected us several hours ago."

"Who is to blame for your delayed departure and late arrival?" Brause asked.

"Mother Nature, sir. If you wish, you might take it up with her at a time convenient to you."

"Eric." McCall chided with a shake of his head.

Aah, Eric's immediate superior. Wow, this was a lot of higher-ups gathered for a simple recon mission.

"Okay, what's going on?" Eric sat down. "They've been with me on a plane for the last twenty hours. Wheels up was delayed a mere 15 minutes. No one did anything to cause this much shit."

"You know Chief Collett." Brause said.

"I do." Eric nodded. "Delta."

"Delta's Lieutenant Commander, Curt Mathers." Brause continued.

"What the hell's going on?" Eric demanded. "It was a rough flight and I want to go to bed. What is this about?" Clay had been uneasy, restless, making everyone on edge, thinking maybe perhaps the kid shouldn't have deployed after all.

"Taha Fasih." Mandy said. "Eric, this is Chad Murray."

"Your boss?"

She nodded, Eric said nothing else. Why was Mandy's superior here, on the ground, planning an op with another team? Only one reason he could think of.

He looked at the faces in the room. "Damn me, Fasih's here." He said slowly. "You want to go after him." he turned to look at Mandy, for a brief moment thinking maybe she had known about this ambush, but he could see on her face, she hadn't been involved. "When did they tell you?"

"When I got here." she shook her head. "Murray was waiting in my quarters."

"We have the green light from D.O.D." Murray confirmed. "Flew Delta in when Ellis couldn't get a commitment from Bravo."

"Alright, you have Delta. Go at it." He'd be happy to fly back home. Knew the team would be as well. "Why didn't you notify us, mid-flight? We would have turned around and went home."

"Delta's been here Eric." Mandy said quietly. "Landed two days ago."

"Two teams are acceptable. Delta will take lead." Brause said. "They've been read in, scouted the area."

"Two teams might be acceptable, but aren't needed. Why keep Bravo on the ground?" Eric argued.

"Chief Hayes is being retrieved to join us." McCall finally said something.

"They want Spenser." Mandy said quietly.

"Delta requires his abilities." Brause confirmed.

Oh. Well, now that. Jason was not going to like that.

"No." Eric responded instantly. "What abilities?"

"His ease with languages." Brause did not like being questioned. "Arabic."

"You think you'll get him because you flew the entire team here?" he cracked, looking at McCall who steadily held his gaze. "Jesus, you do." this night - day - evening, was never going to end. "You flew the _entire_ Bravo team here to get one man."

"We really want Fasih." Mandy said quietly. "He's responsible for the loss of three good agents."

"It's not going to work." Eric shook his head. Mandy knew that, but apparently Murray had no clue. "Not at the expense of Spenser. Hayes will never allow it."

"No one is going to endanger Spenser." Mathers said crossly. "Christ alive, it is his job."

"We knew we'd never get Spenser without Bravo." McCall admitted. "Remember, we wanted Bravo in the first place."

And didn't that just piss off Collett and Mathers even more.

"Not our decision." Eric pointed out, glaring right back at Collett. "Spenser wasn't medically cleared to deploy."

"Why's that again?" Collett sneered. "Oh right, not in his file."

"Why would you have access to his file?" Eric asked.

No one answered him. No one would even look at him.

Jason entered dressed in a t-shirt and boxers. No shoes. Eric hung his head to hide a grin. Good God, the man hadn't even bothered to put on pants. And oh, he was not happy to be summoned here after he'd gone to bed.

"Here, gonna need this." Eric handed him his coffee as Jason sat down next to his team's commander.

"What's this shit about?" Jason yawned, eyes hooded. "What couldn't wait 'til morning?" he tasted the coffee, made a face, not the way he preferred it, but if he was going to be up all night, he was going to need it.

"They have reliable intel Taha Fasih is here and have pinpointed his location with enough accuracy they've made a plan to take a run at capturing him." Eric told him.

"Capture, not kill?"

"That's your problem Hayes, always want to kill." Collett spat. "What, couldn't get dressed?"

Jason blinked, seemingly just coming to realize there were other men in the room and who they were. He knew McCall and Collett, guessed who Mathers was, but Brause and Murray, he had no clue, and didn't care.

"Twenty hour flight." Jason yawned again. "Why are we here if Delta is? We flying home in the morning? I'm good with that."

"We were just getting to that." McCall said. "Our apologies for disturbing you at this hour."

Aah, sarcasm, whatever. Not enough coffee in the country.

"Delta is here because Ellis could not positively confirm Bravo's commitment." Said the asshole in a suit. "No one is flying home."

"That's a lie." Jason retorted easily, not in any way intimidated. "She had our departure date."

"Shall we begin?" Brause asked hastily. "Bravo has...an asset, an advantage that Delta doesn't. Delta has scouted the area, laid the ground work, come up with a good plan to take Fasih alive, from a café in Taiz."

"People tend to talk freely in public when they sense no threat." Mathers began. "And when they don't suspect anyone can speak their language."

And there it was. Use Spenser as bait.

Jason was suddenly wide awake and easily clued in on why the entire Bravo team had been flown to Yemen for a mission when Delta was already there; for the same reason why Ellis had wanted Bravo in the first place – Spenser.

"You want Spenser." Jason snorted. "With Collett on lead? Not happening."

"You don't get to make the decisions." Mathers said smugly. "You were late arriving, we've been here, laid the ground work, this is our mission."

"You can have it. We don't want it." Jason pointed at Mandy. "We agreed because she asked and it was recon only. You found someone else to do it, fine, we'll go home."

"Leaving is not an option for you." Brause said. "Spenser is fluent in Arabic, he is vital to the plan Delta has gotten approved."

"Nope." Jason responded instantly, didn't care he was telling an Admiral to fuck off. "Not gonna happen." was this why Delta had sent a guy to a bar to question Clay? "It's a fucked up plan, not a good one, if they can't put it into motion with just their team."

"It isn't your decision to make." Collett sneered. "Even your boss has a boss Hayes."

"Doesn't matter." Jason wasn't the least bit concerned with the veiled threat of a boss. "Not a chance in hell."

"Spenser is fluent in Arabic," Brause said again as if Jason hadn't heard him the first time. He'd never had to deal with Jason before, wondered how Blackburn did it daily. "It's part of the plan."

"I'm not going to sit here and discuss this." Jason pushed to his feet. "You don't just demand Spenser and expect to get him. Not happening." he was repeating himself, and still, they weren't getting it.

"I want him." Mathers stated. He had every intention of winning this battle. "For one mission, and he's already here."

"You can't have him." Jason leaned over the table, palms flat on its surface. " _No one_ on Delta is taking Spenser anywhere and he isn't leaving this base unless I have command."

"You don't get to say no." Mathers persisted. "You don't have the authority!"

"Why do I have to keep going through this? Every god-damn day? With everyone?" Jason sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Teams just can't demand the kid. For fuck's sake, he's not for rent."

"Commander McCall, surely you see reason." Mathers turned to his Commander. "Clay Spenser is a damn good shot, one of the best, he speaks the language, we need him on this mission."

"Spenser stays with me." Jason said again. "On Bravo. Doesn't matter how many times you say how great Delta's plan is, they can't have him."

"I don't see how Spenser being a 'good shot'," Eric actually made air quotes with his fingers, "in anyway helps Delta on this mission." he had to keep his temper because Jason was about to lose his. "Yes, he speaks the language, but you have interpreters who can do it for you just as easily as he can."

"Locals. Natives." Mathers waved it off. "Not the same. No one expects a young, white male to know the language."

"Is there a reason Spenser can't go with Delta?" Brause asked. "I don't care for your tone or your attitude Chief Hayes. Or your lack of respect. Commander McCall, control your man."

Eric snorted, covered with a cough. Mandy shared a secret smile with him.

Jason rap-a-tap-tapped his fingers on the table, his right hand curled into a fist. "It's not open to negotiation, it's not up for discussion. He doesn't go with Delta. It's not going to happen. Not without us."

Collett and Mathers waited for McCall and Brause to comment, to over-ride Jason, to make the decision they wanted.

"Eric?" McCall said finally.

Eric sighed, muttering a curse. Really? They were putting this on him? He was too old for this shit. As for what he thought…well, he had to work daily with Hayes…. didn't matter, because as usual, he agreed with the team Chief, even if he was a pain in the ass.

"Admiral, Commander," he paused. "With all due respect sirs, Spenser….." he looked around, took a deep breath. Somehow, this was going to bite him in the ass. "I agree with Chief Hayes." he paused, then added. "I'm not convinced Delta doesn't have ulterior motives using Spenser this way."

"Oh! Come on!" Collett exploded. "The hell is this shit?! Is this about Spenser or giving Hayes whatever the fuck he wants? Why does everyone always knuckles under to this prick?!"

"Chief Collett! That is quite enough." Brause said sternly. "Lieutenant Commander Blackburn, this is your opinion, is it not?"

"It is."

It was Murray who stood up and went nose to nose with Jason. Leaning over the table on the opposite side, he adopted the same stance as Jason.

"Give me one good reason why you won't allow Spenser to go on a mission under Delta's authority."

And Jason stood his ground, didn't pull back or move his head, even though he felt Murray's breath on his cheek.

"I don't know who the fuck you are and I don't care." Jason said evenly. "I don't you owe you an explanation. Spenser is on Bravo, not Delta and that is where he stays." He actually leaned closer to Murray. "And just in case you didn't understand me the first time, I'll repeat myself: You can't have him; he's not going; this discussion is over." Jason held the stance another moment, but when Murray didn't respond, he pushed up from the table, strode to the door, slammed it open and left.

"Hayes," McCall sighed. But Jason kept going, let the door slam behind him. "Eric."

Eric stood up, Mandy rose with him. "Good night gentlemen."

"Admiral Brause." Mathers waited.

"Blackburn, are we going to get Spenser for this mission?" the Admiral asked with a sigh. He needed time to think and regroup. He'd never before in his military career, been dismissed by a mere platoon chief.

Eric opened the door for Mandy. "The only way that's happening is allowing Bravo lead on this mission. Even then, you have to talk Hayes around. We were told this was a recon mission, intel gather only, and with Spenser just back from med leave, no one's eager to throw him into a possible dangerous situation."

"I don't care who the hell Hayes thinks he is." Mathers was on his feet. "Orders by his superiors were given and he has to obey them."

"I will get the man responsible for the death of three of my agents Lieutenant." Murray vowed. "Even if I have to throw Hayes in jail for standing in my way."

"Even at the risk of Spenser's life?" Eric let the door hit him in the ass on the way out.

***000***

Come morning, Eric, Ray, Sonny, Trent and Brock joined Collett and Mathers, along with the elite five of Delta, at command ops for the read in on the mission to go after Taha Fasih.

McCall, Braus and Murray and Ellis were present as well.

"Dauphin." Sonny yawned. He had no idea which Seal was Dauphin, but he got the response he was looking for. He knew now. "Ladies." He smirked, taking a seat next to Ray. "Morning,"

"Begin." Eric took a seat, reaching for a donut. He took a bite, made a face; Krispy Kreme's these were not.

"Where's the rest of Bravo?" Collett asked when no one else entered the room.

"On morning runs. They don't get read in." Ray said. "Dunno how it works on Delta, but…"

"Hayes and Spenser." Collett interrupted. Frickin' assholes, God, he hated this team. Every last one of them.

"Sleeping in." Eric replied. "Any coffee? I think the pot at breakfast was decaf." For he sure as hell had a headache and he'd rather blame it on the lack of caffeine then admit it was courtesy of stress.

"Wait a minute." Mathers put a hand up to still all activity in the room. "What do you mean, sleeping in?"

"Two team leaders are not required for this mission." Eric said easily. "You know Hayes's reputation…..he's not going to work under Collett and he'll butt heads if he tries. It was decided last night, Delta would take lead, wasn't it?"

"Not under, with." Brause corrected. "And no, nothing was decided. Hayes walked out." He glared at McCall, then Eric. "We fully expected Spenser to join us this morning."

"Disappointment's a bitch." Sonny commented. "These donuts suck. Christ, just serve us sand."

"So, read us in." Trent said, tossing the donut he'd selected into the trash can.

"We thought Hayes would send him." Mathers said. "His ability to understand the language is vital to our plan."

"You thought wrong." Brock muttered.

Eric sighed. Of course. "Hayes and Spencer won't be joining us."

Collett frowned. "That's bullshit!"

"Spenser is a rookie, his Chief can take him whenever and wherever he wants."

Mandy kept her eyes on the screen that displayed images of the café where they believed Taha Fasih was holed up in the upstairs apartments. She didn't dare make eye contact with Eric. She knew, and she suspected McCall guessed, that Eric and Jason had come up with this – erhm – stunt, to piss off Collett.

"Where are they?" McCall asked. "It is unusual for a Chief to not accompany his team."

"His team will be under the command of Collett." Eric leaned back, "He doesn't need to accompany them. Now, who is ground support?"

"Is he even here?" Collett asked. "Anyone seen him? Spenser?"

Sonny waved his hand. "I have."

"He flew in with us." Mandy said. "He's here."

"On base?" Mathers looked around. "I'd like to talk to him."

"Rumor has it the kid's a tenderfoot." Collett stated. "I don't buy it. Hayes wouldn't put up with that if the kid didn't pull his own weight on every job, mission and deployment."

"Me neither." Ethan spoke up. "Never saw any signs during Green training."

"Guessin' you don't know the kid all that well." Sonny tilted his head, daring Ethan to rise to the argument. "You know, since we didn't see you at Brian's memorial service."

Ethan flushed in anger, not embarrassment.

"So, we going to be read in or not?" Ray asked.

Brause rounded on Eric. "I'm to understand, the only way Delta gets Spenser on this mission, is to allow Hayes to take lead."

"No." Ray corrected. "Delta can have lead, they just don't get lead with Spenser. He stays under Jason's command."

"And that works how?" Collett spat.

"It's simple." Ray smirked. "If Jason doesn't agree with your plan that involves Clay, Clay doesn't do it."


	3. Chapter 3

Hey! Just re-watched an episode…..the dog is male! My bad!

And I know I skimmed over and didn't develop Delta's 'plan', but if ya'll want a prequel with the mission where Clay was 'blown up', you'll forgive me.

* * *

Clay pushed the rice around the plate with the fork. He wasn't sure exactly what meat was on his plate, lamb maybe or goat, didn't matter, he wasn't going to eat it anyway. He wasn't even sure what he was eating, curry maybe. He wasn't fond of the spices used to flavor food in this part of the world, and he wasn't even hungry, but this 'stake-out' required him to play the part of 'tourist', so here he sat in a café, eating some rice dish that curdled his stomach, sipping cider that was sour. God, what he wouldn't give for a roll or slice of bread.

The café was busy for the time of day, Clay's job was to sit, watch and listen, surf the net, nothing more. He didn't like being there alone, knew Bravo was outside, some in the van, others on roof tops, some in nearby private homes or shops. But here, in the café, a hang-out for college students, there was no one other than three Delta support, and he wouldn't count on them if trouble suddenly broke out.

He had yet to feel better after the flight from hell. Even a hot shower and stretching hadn't eased the kinks in his back or neck. He felt tired, worn out and he didn't want to be here. He was loathe to admit it, hadn't to his team, but maybe the doctor had been right when he'd frowned and tut-tutted the team's decision to deploy with Clay. Medical clearance might have been granted, but the doctor had insisted that it was his personal opinion, it was too soon for Clay to fly.

He'd been right.

Clay had felt fine at home, at work, but he hadn't done anything strenuous. Hadn't flown on a cargo plane through turbulence, swinging in a hammock. He'd gone to bed at night, sleeping in a bed with a supportive mattress, not on a cot. Laughing or coughing made his stomach muscles ache, his abs hurt. Standing too long made him light-headed. Getting up too fast made him dizzy.

He hadn't had to tell his team any of that though. They knew. When asked if he felt up to this task, he'd agreed, because all he had to do was sit, eat, watch and listen. Even Jason and Ray had agreed, but they'd thrown every symptom he was having and hadn't told them about right back in his face.

Clay might not remember what happened every time he was hurt or knocked stupid or unconscious or somehow incapacitated, but he knew his team went through a lot of emotional and mental stress and anxiety whenever he was. They were all good about it, Sonny liked to tease him, Trent always questioned him, and Jason would just watch him. Like Davis had said, he'd yet to end up permanently injured, but still...

The waiter came by the table, motioned whether or not he wanted anything more.

"Water." Clay said slowly. He really didn't like the cider. "Water? Bottled, not tap." Holding a finger up, he dug out a pen and drew a picture of a bottle of water on a white paper napkin. The waiter nodded but he was distracted, his look focused on someone or something across the room. He took the napkin and moved on. Clay shrugged, should have just shown the man a photo on his tablet.

He sighed, tried the cider again, he really was quite thirsty, but nope, still tasted awful. Maybe it didn't go well with the spicy food. He looked around the café, but couldn't make out who else might have ordered the cider.

He waited, but the waiter didn't return. Clay looked about for someone else to bring him a check, but suddenly, the café was empty of every, single employee. The din and noise had subsided to a low hum. Was it him? Everything sounded muted, distant, far off.

Check or no check, it was time to leave.

He pushed back from the table, but when he stood up, he couldn't make his knees work. His balance was non-existent, his sight blurry, the room tunneled, zoomed, made his head spin. Reaching for the table, his hand missed the surface, grabbed the table cloth, dishes and silverware clattered to the floor with such a loud crash, he winced. His chair tipped over and his forehead smacked the table as he went down to his knees.

He braced his weight on his palms, tried to lock his elbows, but his shoulders shook….weebles wobbled and this one fell down. His cheek scraped against the floor, his hips rolled and he was on his side. Someone or something was coming towards him, he didn't know who or what. He couldn't do anything about it anyway. The room was whirling too fast, whipping him around in circles until colors and shapes blurred and nothing he did - deep breaths, blink, close his eyes, hold his head, turn away - stopped his head from spinning.

He was grabbed under the arms, lifted and dragged towards a wall that, with the wave of a hand, magically opened to reveal a passageway. His head hurt and his ears were ringing, but he knew he didn't want to go through that door. If he did, he wouldn't be coming back. Strength and coordination had abandoned him, but he could go limp, become a dead weight, make it harder to be dragged across the floor and into that passageway; because no one in the room had tried to intervene or help him. They simply picked him up and carried him.

The room exploded.

Doors crashed opened, windows shattered, tables were upended, people ducked from flying glass, hit the floor screaming. Dishes clattered, glasses broke because from every available door and window, Navy Seals poured in. Anyone got in their way, they were shoved to the floor, stepped over and those with sense, stayed where they were dropped. Those that tried to stand, were shoved face first to the floor and held there with a boot on the back of their neck – man, woman, child, it didn't matter.

The Seals steadily advanced, their focus on one thing and woe to anyone who stood in their way.

Clay was splayed with blood from head shots. He was dropped on his back, hit the floor hard and gunfire erupted from the hidden passageway. He knew what that sound was, but didn't do anything to protect himself from it. Before he could even attempt to gather his scattered, dulled wits, his ankle was grabbed and he was dragged towards the wall. His other ankle was grabbed and resistance pulled him the other way – a game of tug-of-war commenced.

His sore, recently battered body – every joint, socket and tendon – which not so many days ago had been blown off its feet, balked at being yanked and pulled and tugged every which way, and he howled, too dazed and disoriented to kick free. And even if he were to try, he didn't know which way safety lay.

His hands scrabbled for something, anything to hold onto but there was nothing. His knee was grabbed, held, there was pain from a bruising grip and suddenly, Sonny was lying on top of him, shouting at him to lie still, that he had him.

The hands reaching for him from within the wall withdrew, his foot hit the floor with a thud and the door closed.

()

Forty seconds.

Collett stood in the middle of the café and fumed.

Forty seconds and his carefully planned mission had gone to shit.

His team was attempting to restore order to the café by calming the customers and helping those that had been frightened, traumatized or injured by Bravo's violent entry….and Bravo? Wwwweelllllll….

Ray calmly stepped over two dead men, each who now had half a head, slipped in the blood, wiped his boot on a robe.  
Trent was turning over and tossing every last table, as if he thought doing so would magically produce more men to kill.  
Brock and the damn barking dog were at the wall where the door had opened, trying to make it reappear.  
Sonny sat on the floor holding Spenser who was not responding no matter how loud Sonny yelled at him.  
Members of Bravo support where tearing the café apart, looking for what, Collett didn't know.  
And Jason? Well now, he came for blood.

One punch and Collett was on his ass, rubbing his jaw.

"I told you this was shit waiting to go wrong! Thought you canvased the area." Collett had gained his feet and Jason shoved him backwards, coming at him with both hands, grabbing hold of his vest and holding tight. "Staked this place out for days. Wasn't that what you said? How the hell do you miss a secret entrance? A tunnel that comes right onto ground level?"

Collett pushed back, slapping Jason's hands off his vest. "Get your fucking hands off me."

"That's all you got to say?" Jason demanded. "This whole shit show blew up in your face and you've got nothing else to say?"

Oh, Collett had plenty to say and he said it: it was all Bravo's fault, they jumped the gun, entered too soon, blew the mission, tipped Taha Fasih off and now he knew, they knew he was here.

Another punch. Again Collett was on his ass.

"Why is Bravo support here?" Collett demanded gaining his feet a second time. "It was just suppose to be your elite team Hayes."

"You think I trusted you?" Jason lunged for the man, "Believed for one minute you wanted Spenser to sit in a café and _listen_?"

"Hey, hey….." Ray was there, pushing between Delta members who had pulled Jason off their Chief. "Kick his ass later Boss, kid needs medical."

"Where the hell were your men Collett? Huh? You placed three in here, what the hell were they doing? They just sit and watch a Seal be dragged through a fucking passageway? Did you order them to wait and see? You knew this was going to happen, just not the passageway in the wall."

"They were following orders." Collet snapped. "All Spenser was supposed to do was sit and listen! How fucking hard is that?" he waved a hand around the destroyed café. "You wanna talk about my men? What the hell did your wonder kid do to help himself? Nice Hayes, real nice, anything to say about this fuck up? Huh? No? Don't suppose you do."

"He's _drugged_ you asshole! How the _**hell**_ can you not know that?" Jason paced in disbelief. He was shaking, but didn't know if it was from fear or anger. Might be dread.

"If Fasih was here, he's gone for good now."

"You sonofabitch!" Jason started forward, again fisting Collett's vest, again Ray wedged between them.

"JACE! Hey!" Ray put his weight behind his shove to move Jason back. "NOT NOW!"

"Why did you burst in here anyway?" Ethan demanded. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Who the fuck are you? How stupid are you?" Jason countered. "His cover was blown! _They knew who and what he was!_ They didn't try and kill him. They tried to _take_ him! They had a plan. What kind of intel do you run on?"

"He didn't have comms." Ethan said. "Yet you know he was drugged and they were going to take him? How Hayes? How could you possibly know that? Even you aren't that good."

"Every single employee disappeared." Jason said, swatting at Ray to let him go. "You better pray that kid is okay. You won't like me if he isn't."

We don't like you now, Ethan seethed. He thought Jason was going to go after Collett again, but he submitted to Ray's tugging and turned away, whistling. His men came to attention, awaiting orders.

"She got anything?" He asked Brock.

"We get in, she'll follow them."

Jason snapped his fingers and an axe started hacking the wall. "Ray, take Sonny, go with Brock. Take whoever you want from support. You," he pointed to a member of the support team. "Get transport, you drive."

Ethan was stunned, where the hell had an axe come from? Who the hell carried an axe?

Collett was furious. How dare Jason turn his back on him? This was in no way finished.

Before Collett could go after Jason, the café went dark. All activity and noise halted.

Un-fucking-believable. Jason closed his eyes, kicked an over-turned table, threw a pitcher that had somehow managed to remain upright, off the bar to the floor with a swipe of his arm. Jesus-fucking-Christ, what next?

"Davis? What we got?" He barked into his comm. Delta ground was running over-watch, but he didn't care. He knew his team was there, watching and hearing everything. He so did not need this right now. "Trent, take him." He ordered as the wall finally gave way under the savage attack of the axe. "Get going." He told Ray. "Don't come back without something."

"Working on it." Davis replied.

"Need a status."

"Yeah, complete shutdown. Whole block Boss…..checking, gimme a sec….yeah, the whole city."

"So, gridlock." Jason cursed, kicking a chair repeatedly across the floor, then back. "You're telling me, traffic isn't moving." he stood still, staring at the ceiling. "Anywhere."

"Yup, sit tight, gonna be awhile. We'll try and map out a route."

"Helo?" Jason asked without much hope. Not in this city.

Silence. Then Eric's voice. "You're requesting air?" he braced himself, held Lisa's gaze, knew it was coming. Knew he was about to be told someone was down. Lisa mouthed 'Clay' and Eric nodded. They knew. "Who?"

"Roger that." Jason paused. "Spenser."

"GSW?" Lisa asked. Least they hadn't lost him. "Not equipped to handle that here. Checking for nearest airfield equipped with surgical…."

"Drugged," Jason cut in, "Conscious but unresponsive. All I know."

They had the kid, Eric knew Bravo did. Else, they wouldn't be asking for a chopper, but still, he had to give voice to the question just to hear the answer spoken. "Tell me you have him?" he said wearily.

"Affirmative."

"Stand by." Lisa said. "But count on ground."

Trent removed his helmet, shouldered his gun and knelt beside Sonny who hesitated before letting Trent take Clay from his lap.

"He come around any?" Trent asked.

"He's breathing." Sonny shifted his weight, ready to transfer Clay to Trent. "Shallow, pupils are blown. Heart's racing. Doesn't like to move."

Trent produced a pen light out of one pocket or another, went through the familiar routine of thumbing open one eyelid at a time. Clay didn't react to either the light, or the forced prying open of his eyes.

"Shit." Trent muttered. He didn't like that. "Clay? Hey you, you with me?" gave him a gentle shake, patted his cheeks, grabbed his jaw, juggled his head. Nothing. "Spenser. Hey, fight through it. Come on."

"I got nothing from him either." Sonny said.

"Quinn! Let's go!" Ray yelled. He, Brock, Cerberus were the last to enter the passageway, the men he'd selected to go with them already gone. "Sonny!" they were waiting and still, Sonny was reluctant to turn Clay over to Trent.

"I've got him." Trent said, taking Clay's weight across his lap as Sonny went up on his knees. "Come back in one piece."

They bumped fists, Sonny joined the others and they were gone. No one from Delta followed.

'What we looking at?" Jason took Sonny's spot. "He hanging in there?"

"We got transport out?"

"Whole city is gridlocked. Doubtful on air."

Someone handed Trent a glass of water, but Clay still didn't rouse to repeated name calling, gentle slaps or shaking. Trent splashed the water in his face, ice chips hit his cheeks.

"That's it, come on." Trent gave him a harder shake, letting his head roll. "Spenser, hey you, wake up, talk to me, come on."

His eyes twitched, the lids fluttered, closed, fluttered, blinked, quivered before finally opening.

"Hey there." Jason greeted. "Spence? You with us?"

Yeah, no, Clay just stared. Didn't blink, didn't squint, didn't move his eyes, just stared.

"Yeah, I'm not liking that." Trent sighed. "Gridlock? Really? Power outage, yah, right." he palmed Clay's forehead, didn't know why, just did, 'cause he could. "They meant to take him, Delta meant to let them, right?" Clay moved his head slightly, towards the hold, not away, seeking comfort.

Jason delivered a stinging slap, leaving a red imprint against a pale cheek. "It's what Eric and I thought." he admitted. "Any guesses what they might have given him?"

Clay blinked. But his eyes didn't focus, just stared at nothing.

"That's it." Jason coaxed. "Keep coming out of it. Come on kid. You can't keep doing this to me."

Trent snorted. "With his history of throwing a reaction to every-fuck-ing-thing? Could be anything. Sedative, tranquilizer, Rohypnol most…aw, shit."

The only warning Trent got before Clay threw up was the way he slightly stiffened.

"Clear it out!" Jason yelled. Someone would take charge and do his bidding. He didn't care who, he just wanted it done.

It didn't take long for Trent to go from annoyed to worried. Clay wasn't choking but he wasn't attempting to catch his breath either. He didn't swallow, but neither did he try to spit out anything he was puking up.

"Fuck." Trent pushed Clay off his lap and onto his side, coming up on his knees to hold him still, half afraid the kid would throw a seizure on him. When the moment passed and he didn't, Trent was relieved, shoulders sagging as the tension eased out of him. Seizures were serious shit he couldn't handle here.

"What you thinking?" Jason asked.

"Kid's gonna have a rough day." Trent muttered. "He's drugged, gonna hafta wear off."

"Not an overdose? Not poison?"

Trent shook his head, sick at the thought that if whoever had intended to abscond with Clay had succeeded, the kid would be going through this alone and no one would have cared whether or not he survived it – which, he very well may not have. His captors wouldn't have had the knowledge of Clay's prior history of throwing a bad reaction to everything. They wouldn't have known what to do for him either.

"How do you know?" Jason asked. "Trent, come on, give me something here."

"My gut." He wasn't giving his full attention to Jason, more concerned about Clay who had rolled over to his stomach, knees twitching as he attempted to push up, crawl away. Trent patiently reached out to drag him back.

That was good enough for Jason. He'd trust Trent's instincts and gut feelings when it came to Clay over any field medic or base doctor.

"Jesus kid," Trent muttered. "Hey, breathe…no, don't cough, you'll choke, what the...nononono, don't swallow, I said don't…..Spenser…..Spenser….Clay! I need you to breathe…..holding your breath won't make the puking stop…Jesus." he sighed, hating the fact Clay either didn't know him or couldn't respond. "Spit it out…..spit….I said….spit….." still on his knees, he pulled Clay off the floor, let him sit on his hip and with one arm around him to hold him, tried to wedge a finger between his teeth and pry his mouth open. "Don't clench. Open….hey...okay, open your mouth. Yeah, sorry kid, but you're not going to like this."

"What the fuck you doing?" Jason demanded, gagging when Clay did, squirming against Trent's hold. "You got to do that?"

"Making him puke." Trent replied, two fingers in Clay's mouth, going for the back of his throat. "I want him to spit it out, not swallow it."

Jason was about to say that inducing vomiting went against medical advice when a person was poisoned, but Clay hadn't been poisoned, so he kept his mouth shut. He wanted to ask what 'it' was, but decided he didn't want to know.

Clay lacked the strength to gain his freedom from Trent, but that didn't stop him from trying and his squirming soon had Trent struggling to keep his hold on him. Jason winced when Clay groaned, pushing at the arm across his stomach, holding him close. Cursed because usually Clay was content when with or held by one of them - the team.

He cursed again, watching Trent try and hold the kid upright, his head still while he tried again to force his fingers down Clay's throat. Clay kept squirming away, tossing his head back or away or down and Trent lacked a third hand.

"Give him here." Jason tried not to gag, didn't want to be the one who puked. He couldn't stomach much more. He reached with both hands to take Clay from Trent and by holding him against his chest, Trent was able to hold Clay's head steady against Jason's shoulder and insert his fingers.

Jason went pale, shaking as he felt Clay fight the invasion and his body's reaction to it. Felt the kid tense, go rigid, his breath catch, stop, blow threw his nose. He used his chin to hold Clay's head still, hands holding Clay's. Trent was up on his knees, letting go of Clay's jaw to fist his other hand in the kids shirt, ready to pull him forward.

The coughing, choking and gagging abruptly ended, Clay went still in Jason's arms and Jason felt the kids stomach muscles spasm beneath his arm...he pushed as Trent pulled. On their knees, they held Clay between them and all three went forward.

Jesus Christ...he'd seen projectile vomiting before, was seeing it now...never wanted to experience it.

()

Collett and Ethan found themselves along with the rest of Delta, swept up in a wave of movement when the remaining support members of Bravo rounded everyone up and cleared the room of gawkers and bystanders. Even the bodies had up and disappeared.

"Stand aside soldier." Collett ordered, fully expecting to be obeyed. He wasn't. "I said, move and allow me through."

"Sorry sir." The young soldier replied. "Chief's orders."

"I am the Chief, I out-rank you and I order you to stand aside and allow me through."

"You are not my Chief," came the reply, "You will get past me only if you engage all of us in a fist-fight and win." He paused. "Sir."

"Are you disobeying a direct order?" Collett demanded, astounded.

"Only yours, sir."

"What did you just say?"

"My Chief is here, I follow his orders."

"This is my mission, I have command."

The soldier didn't even blink. "You may have command of the mission sir, but you do not have command of me when my boss, Chief Hayes, is present."

Ethan just didn't get the loyalty to Hayes from all his men. This soldier had more trust in Jason Hayes than he had fear of a higher-rank. The man didn't doubt for one second that his Chief wouldn't defend him against accusations or charges. He hadn't even twitched when confronted by Collett.

Ethan turned to study the scene across the room where Trent hovered over Clay. Now Hayes had Clay, was holding him while Trent did something. And Clay claimed Trent wasn't a medic….bullshit.

Every last man on Bravo had obeyed their Chief's orders without pause, without hesitation, without comment…..all of them. They'd taken the café, ignored innocent customers and patrons, shot two men dead, hacked down a door, entered a passageway, and cleared the room in a matter of mere minutes. And through it all, Hayes had maintained order and control. Well, of his men anyway, he didn't pay anyone from Delta any attention at all.

Collett had lost control of the mission as soon as Hayes had given the order 'GO'. As long as Hayes was around, his men were not going to obey anyone else. And that obviously included every last man on Bravo support.


	4. Chapter 4

Clay was miserable. He hurt, he ached, his throat burned, his stomach felt as if he'd just went through a boxing match and gotten pummeled repeatedly...and he was kissing the floor. He couldn't think straight or right or normal…..nothing was the way it should be. Not a damn thing. Not the lights, not the sounds, not the smells, not his sense of depth. When he reached out for something he thought he saw, he couldn't touch it. Everything looked under water, shimmered, wavered, like he was looking through thick glass.

He didn't like it.

His hand was grabbed, held, forced down. He reached again. His hand was grabbed, pulled back, forced down. He tried a third time. His hand was caught and held, then forced down. He didn't try again.

Jason rubbed his thumb in a circular motion on the back of Clay's hand. This time he accepted the hold, didn't attempt to jerk his hand free and reach out again.

"This normal?" Jason asked, knowing it probably wasn't. After all, this was Spenser. If there was a way to throw a reaction to being drugged, he'd find it, have it and give his team heart failure – again.

Trent shrugged. "Is anything he ever does normal?"

They were all sitting on their knees, Jason still holding Clay upright. The vomiting has eased, so Jason took a chance and released his hold. The kid had a grip on the material of his pants but neither Trent nor Jason saw the need to break it.

"Hey…no…what are you doing?" Trent reached for him when Clay stirred, easing away from Jason. He moved off his hip and gained his knees. "Don't get up, I don't want you to get up. Just sit."

So Clay knelt on one hand and his knees for a moment, then sat back, ass on his ankles and let go of Jason to rest his palms on his thighs.

Trent kept a hand on the back of his neck, not wanting the kid to fall forward and hit the floor, trying to decide if Clay's ability to sit up on his own was a good sign. Never could tell with the kid.

"HAYES! GOD DAMN YOU!" bellowed Collett from across the room.

"Feel better after that?" Trent asked. "Clay? Hey? Spenser?"

Jason ignored the commotion across the room, attention focused on Clay. "Don't see how."

"Try some water." Trent uncapped a bottle someone had brought over. "Sips, just a bit."

Clay sat for another moment, then reached for the bottle, hand shaking, arm quivering. Trent let him have it, but he inadvertently squeezed it and water sloshed out. Trent took it back without comment, tangled a hand in the back of Clay's unruly mop, raised his head and put the bottle to his lips.

"Rinse and spit." Trent advised. "Spit….no, don't swallow. Lemme see your eyes."

Clay spat the water onto the floor, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before looking up through wet bangs.

"Can you look at me?"

Clay frowned, he thought he was looking at him. Yup, Trent was right there. A bit blurry, a bit distorted, kinda like a cartoon, but yeah, Clay was looking right at him…..whoever he was.

Trent had to raise Clay's head to make them eye-level. "Spenser, tell me who I am." he ordered. Clay licked his lips. "Tell me who you are." Clay bit his bottom lip, holding it between his teeth. Trent looked up at Jason. "Jesus Boss, if they'd gotten ahold of him…"

Yeah, Jason had already had the same thoughts.

Clay slid sideways, weight going off his ankles, back down on his hip. He sat for a moment, shaking. When no one stopped him, he rocked onto both knees, went forward on his elbows, hung his head and threw up.

Jason ran a hand across his face, holding the back of his neck, this feeling of helplessness was one he didn't like.

"Hey, hey…hey." Trent stopped him from lying down, sliding an arm from around his back to his chest to pick him up. "No….no….hey…stop it." He pulled Clay off his knees and dragged him away from the mess on the floor. He was handed a wet towel that he used to wipe Clay's face and neck. "Don't fight me…..kid, come on." Clay squirmed against Trent's hold and Trent went up on his knees, taking Clay with him, letting him double over for another round of vomiting, juggling his weight to keep him from going face-first to the floor.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell is he still puking up?" Jason complained. "Can't you make it stop?"

"Water, bile, mucus, spit." Trent shrugged. "He'll just dry heave soon." he didn't want to see that. Clay was fighting now, trying not to puke and Trent could guess it was because his muscles hurt. Hell, his whole body still hurt. The kid was sore and his body was at war, puking hurt so he tried not to puke. That made him choke, and choking hurt so he tried not to choke. That made him cough and coughing hurt, so he tried not to cough. And still, his stomach was determined to turn itself inside out.

"Davis!" Jason barked into his comm. Things were quickly spiraling out of control. He had a scene to contain, dead bodies to explain, a kidnapping attempt to uncover, a team wandering some unknown tunnel, someone's teeth to knock out and a date to schedule so Bravo could engage in an all-out brawl with Delta. And, what really knotted his stomach? Spenser and they were in no position to help him. Again.

"Can't get air clearance. Working on it."

"Then gimme ground!"

"Working on that too."

"Can anything go right today?" Jason whipped a glass across the room, it hit the wall and shattered. "Just one god-damn thing?"

"Boss?" Clay slurred, sitting back on his heels, Trent kept an arm around his waist but didn't hold tight. God, he didn't feel good. A wet towel was in his face and though he tried to turn away, not liking the cold touch, it wiped his forehead and eyes, then his cheeks and mouth.

"Right here." Jason squatted in front of him, the towel hanging from one hand. "You with us? Hey?" he snapped his fingers in an attempt to gain Clay's attention. "Spenser?"

"Think..." Clay swallowed a groan, breaking out in a sweat as his stomach stabbed him. "Ooof." he moaned in pain, arms crossing over his stomach. "Think...I'm gonna..." he licked his lips, held his breath through a hiccup, "Stomach...hurts..." he was panting now, he looked at Jason with wide, dilated eyes, rocked forward and threw up - again.

"Yeah," Jason swallowed bile, "I know it does."

Trent had him, so Jason paced away, digging deep and willing his stomach to keep its contents for a little while longer. His knees weak, he sat down. The kid always gave everything he had, did whatever job or duty or chore he was assigned, never complained, tolerated the teasing and ribbing, the team's mother-henning and yet, whenever something went sideways, the kid was always the one who suffered the brunt of the botched outcome. Every, god-damn mother-fucking time.

"Boss!" Someone yelled. "Need you over here!"

Trent sat on the floor, his back against the wall next to the hacked door, Clay mostly on his stomach, sprawled across his lap, head resting near his knee, hand clutching his pants leg. Damn kid always had to have something to hold on to.

"Go." Trent didn't raise his head, afraid if he moved, he'd set Clay to retching again and neither of them were ready for another round so soon.

Jason hesitated, reluctant to leave Trent to handle Clay on his own or let Clay out of his sight, but Collett was raising a fit and it wasn't fair to leave his men to deal with it.

()

Eric slowly raised his head. He saw Mathers staring at him and carefully set the cup he held in his hand on the table so he didn't whip it at the bastards head.

"Nothing to say?" Eric asked. "Anything? No?"

"Blackburn." Brause sighed in exasperation. "We don't have the whole story. We don't know what happened."

"We have an attempt to take a Seal alive. We have a hidden passageway, a secret door, a tunnel and no idea where it leads. We have a drugged man with no immediate access to medical care. We have an entire city off the grid. Coincidence? Or deliberate to leave us blind and immobile while they make a clean getaway? I have enough to be pissed off and no amount of dirty looks or orders is going to make me shut up."

"We only wanted Spenser." Mathers pointed out.

"He isn't _yours_!" Eric was getting angry. "He _doesn't_ belong to you. This shit of other teams demanding him at will for their own mission stops right now."

"Bravo wasn't part of the plan," Mathers began but Eric was on his feet and coming towards him.

"And why's that? Because the plan you read us in on, was complete bullshit? Because your actual plan was to let them take Spenser and then follow, correct? Because you thought their escape route would take them out the back door? That's why you didn't want Bravo there." Eric paced. "Epic fail Mathers. You must really think Hayes and I are stupid."

"Now Lieutenant, let's not jump to conclusions." Brause said hastily. "Hayes has a reputation for not playing well with others. That was Delta's issue with having Bravo on the mission. Nothing more. I mean, really, does Hayes get along with _any_ other teams?" his attempt at a smile came across as a sneering smirk.

"Sure he does." Lisa tapped keys on the computer. "Alpha, Echo…..not so much Charlie though." She paused. "Never Delta, not after this."

"You only know what Hayes has told you." Mathers chose to ignore the accusation. "Again, only one Chief should have been on this mission."

"Yours?" Lisa briefly raised her eyes from the computer screen. "And where would Clay be now?"

"Your intel and recon were bullshit. They knew who Spenser was, had a plan to take him. You didn't know about the tunnel, the passageway, the door. God won't help you if I can ever prove it…." Eric was watching the live video, waiting to see ground units clear the roads around the café. "You didn't know his cover was blown, if you did, you didn't care. You didn't give the order to move in. And I sure as hell didn't hear Delta order anyone to enter the tunnel with Bravo and go after the sonsofbitches."

"And the international incident Bravo just caused?" Mathers asked smugly. "Securing the café with no regard to civilian lives or safety?"

Even McCall raised an eyebrow at that smart-ass comment. "Am I to understand, _Lieutenant_ Commander Mathers, you are more concerned with public appearances and what may or may not hit the press, than you are over the drugging and near kidnapping of an elite Seal under the command of your Chief?"

Mathers flushed. "I mean, we didn't have eyes in the café."

"The hell?" Eric exploded. " _We_ damn well did!"

"Spenser didn't even have comms!" Mathers yelled right back. "No camera. Even the great Hayes agreed to that!"

"Because twenty men on our team did! Every single member had eyes on that café and Spenser! We knew exactly what was going on! What needs to be explained is why three Delta sat around and let him be picked up and carried to a fucking hole in the wall nobody knew anything about!?" Eric was most certainly yelling now. "WHEN I PROVE YOUR PLAN WAS TO LET SPENSER BE TAKEN SO YOU COULD FOLLOW, I'LL BURY YOU SO FUCKING DEEP IN SIBERIA, YOUR WIFE WON'T HEAR FROM YOU FOR A YEAR!"

McCall and Brause exchanged a look. Blackburn rarely raised his voice. He never yelled.

"Your plan went straight to hell over an unknown secret entrance! You FUCKED up and if that kid pays the price, say your prayers." Eric managed to rein in his temper. "Because it won't be Hayes you'll have to worry about."

()

"Get out of my face." Jason warned Collett. "You step any closer, you're gonna get knocked down. You wanna be taken out a second time in front of all your men, keep standing there giving my men shit."

"I'm ready for your sucker-punch this time." Collett shot back.

"Now's neither the time nor the place." One of his men, most likely Delta's second in command, said. "Boss, this is your mission, we have a scene to contain."

"We aren't the ones who left dead bodies. Terrorized civilians, kids." Collett retorted. "Let them contain it."

"They already have." The man said quietly. "But it's our mission."

Meaning, they were the ones who would have to fill out the official reports on what had gone down. And they didn't know. Which meant, they had damn well better find out.

"Don't think this…..." Jason began but a commotion behind him had everyones attention. The team had returned, emerging from the wall, the dog barking, Ray uselessly trying to stop Sonny from tackling some guy from Delta. He gave up and let him go. "Ray?" Jason spread his hands in the universal WTF gesture. "Something I should know?"

"Tunnel ended on the docks." Ray reported. "Cerb found this." He set a duffel bag on the bar. "Restraints, syringes, this….." he pointed to a brown label-less bottle, "Brock said it's ether. Found a stretcher."

"Quinn?" Jason sighed, rubbing his forehead. He'd been right, capture not kill. He swallowed bile as the ramifications of what could have been tumbled about and around his head. "Escape plan was a boat? Then why cut power to the city?" he was going to have to take a moment and step outside if he couldn't get his traitorous stomach under control.

"He didn't think you'd let him at Collett, and the first asshole he saw coming out of the passage was one of the dicks who sat right here and watched them try and take _our_ kid." he stared Collett down, pleased to see the Chief did not like being challenged by someone beneath him in rank.

Jason thought about it, knew he should probably have someone corral Sonny and stop the fist-fight, but eh, whatever.

Ethan blinked. Seals didn't fist fight other Seals. And their Chief's didn't let them.

"Good job Collett." Ray said snidely, deciding to go ahead and push. "Great plan." He gave him a mocking thumbs-up. "Way to go. Was losing the kid part of your plan? Didn't share it with us, if it was. Hey, FYI…..they had a better plan then you did. Drug a Seal, carry him out through a passageway onto a boat, cut power to an entire FUCKING city and make a clean getaway. Woot-woot."

Collett fumed, pissed that a Senior Chief had the nerve to address him in such a manner. And that the team's Master Chief let him? Oh, that just made his blood boil.

"Clean this up." Jason told Collett. "Ray, round everyone up, Davis will have our way out any minute."

"How is he?"

Jason scowled. "Kid can't stop puking, not responsive. Trent doesn't want to make him move."

Members from Delta finally succeeded in pulling Sonny off their teammate and rather than engage in a fight with them all, Sonny went over to Trent and Clay, went down on his haunches beside the pair, balancing on his toes.

"Found a bottle of Ether." He told Trent. "Kid okay?"

"He hurts." Trent sighed, rubbing his forehead. "He didn't inhale Ether, could have drank it I suppose."

"The only drug you think?"

"Hell, no. He ingested something." Clay stirred, cheek rubbing against Trent's thigh as he tensed and eased his head off his leg, chin towards the floor. "And he's gonna hurl." Trent sighed tiredly. "Again."

Sonny cast an eye over the floor. "Christ."

"No you don't." Trent refused to let him lie down. "All I need, you go and choke."

"Hurts from what?" Sonny reached for him and Trent handed him over. They – the team – had gotten so used to handling and handing off Clay when he was either hurt, unresponsive or unconscious, they had no problems juggling his weight.

"Keep him sitting up long as he's puking." Trent told Sonny. "He starts choking, stick a finger down his throat, don't let him swallow that shit. I want him to spit it out. He pukes blood, call me."

"You're not gonna leave me alone with him!" Sonny protested. "Hey! Wait, what? What do you mean, blood?" he yelled after Trent. "HEY!"

"I wanna see that bottle." Trent yelled over his shoulder.

"Okay kid, me and you here." Sonny expected to feel body warmth from holding Clay, but he didn't. The kid was cool and clammy, yet sticky with sweat. He kept licking his lips, but when Sonny cast an eye around for a bottle of water, he didn't see one.

"Hey," Brock knelt down with a wet towel. Cerberus wedged her way in, licked at Clay's face, nudging with her nose when she didn't get a response. "I know girl," he scratched her ears when she whuffed. "Trent said no water, every time he drinks it, he pukes it."

"I'm killing someone." Sonny vowed, glare of death sent Collett's way.

"You thinking their plan was to let the kid get taken?"

"Yup."

"Think boss knew it?"

"Yup."

"And he agreed anyway?" Brock gently toweled Clay's damp hair before wiping the towel over his face. Clay turned into the gesture, let his cheek rest against Brock's towel-clad hand. "Poor guy ain't feeling too good, huh?"

"It's why we're here. He and Blackburn wouldn't…aaw, fuck kid…..again?"

()

"Bravo One!" David chirped in his ear. "Load up, got you a way out."

"Boss." Trent said quietly. "You sure you want to load him into a truck? Drive with him?"

"We can't stay here."

"I have nothing to give him."

"Boat?" Ray suggested.

Trent hesitated then shook his head. "Think that would be worse on him."

"So, what are you saying?" Jason said impatiently. He wanted out of this place and away from Collett.

"He hurts." Trent waited.

Jason nodded. Right, the kid was still stiff and sore from coming off med leave, like two days ago, maybe three. The same day they'd flown here in fact. And the reason they'd left at night instead of morning. His stomach muscles alone had to be killing him.

"You want their medic? Their med pack?" Jason asked. If he had to go through Collett to give Trent whatever he wanted, well, it'd be a fight well worth it. One he looked forward to.

Collett puffed up, this was taking things too far. "Hold the fuck up Hayes! You can't just order my team..…"

"There's nothing it in I want."

"Right, and you're not a medic." Ethan snorted.

"Shut up." Ray gave him a nudge with the butt of his rifle. "No one told you to speak."

Collett went from outraged to insulted, "Listen, you smart-ass jerk, our medic is every bit as good as yours."

"Come on Boss, they have six shooters." Ethan laughed. "That's it." He stepped behind Collett when Ray took a step forward. "Trent here's not a medic. Ain't that right, Trent?"

"Trent!" Brock called, the dog barked with him.

"What's it gonna be?" Jason asked Trent.

"Moving is gonna be hard on him."

"We aren't going to be able to keep the local authorities out much longer. What will make it easier for him to travel? You want to take him to a local clinic?" Ray asked.

Trent was absolutely horrified at the suggestion. "God! No!" he shuddered. Let those ill-equipped, no-knowledge medical hacks anywhere near the kid? The thought made him sick.

"We can take it, you can look for the meds you want." Ray continued. "Or we can send someone to take what you want. Davis can tell us where the closest one is."

"Make a decision…you don't have many options." Jason pushed. He hated being hard on Trent, didn't want to put Clay through anything more, any more than Trent did, but if Trent wouldn't make the choice, he would.

"TRENT!"

That from Sonny. Trent scuffed his toe along the floor. "He's not going to like it." He warned Jason.

"We'll be with him." Ray gave Trent's shoulder a squeeze.

Yeah, well, this is one time that might not matter, Trent thought. The kid was going to whine, cry, whimper and not even the dog was going to like it.

"Load him up." Trent sighed. "Have Davis locate a clinic."

Jason held Trent's gaze for several seconds. They had few options. Staying until Davis could get air retrieval risked an argument and fight with local authorities. The last thing Jason needed was having his men face arrest or having them have to make a decision to shoot. He knew without a doubt every last man on his team would do either without hesitation, but he couldn't let it come to that. The situation would then be out of his control.

He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. It was a good thirty minute drive back to base and that was if every road they needed to take remained clear. He couldn't count on that. And he had twenty-one men to transport back, he'd be damned if he left one man on Bravo behind and under Collett's authority.

He also had to arrange for Clay to ride in the same truck as his immediate team or there would be a temper tantrum thrown by three elite Seals that would rival the worst ever seen by a toddler. Three – because you simply didn't separate Trent from any injured or ill team member and there was no fucking way Jason was letting Clay out of his sight…he jumped when Ray dug an elbow in his side.

Ethan didn't miss how close Ray stayed to his Chief's side, didn't miss the nudge with the elbow, began to realize just how close this Bravo team was. The interactions he'd witnessed since this mission had begun were not tolerated on any other elite team. On Delta, the Senior Chief would never question or disagree with the Master Chief, would never touch him to get his attention, would rarely intervene to prevent a fight. And Collett would never sit on the floor with one of his men – no matter the reason.

"Davis, we're loading up, need the nearest clinic." Jason keyed his comm wearily.

"Come again Bravo One?" Eric was stunned, thrown for a loop. "You need what?"

"You're taking him to a _local_ clinic?" Lisa said aghast. "Jesus Jason, how bad is he?"

Both McCall and Brause frowned at her. First names – any names – were generally not used.

"We're taking the clinic, getting meds." Jason replied. "Not having him treated."

"So, you're not leaving him there?" Lisa sighed in relief. "Don't scare me like that Bravo One."

"Now see here," Mathers began. "We already have an uncontained scene, local authorities' onsite, civilians involved, you cannot authorize a forced entry into a local clinic and demand – steal – medication!"

"Shut the fuck up." Eric snapped. "Davis, give him what he wants."

"You're going to allow them to invade a clinic to get meds?" Brause inquired. It didn't occur to him he had the authority to over-ride Eric's approval. "Delta has a medic."

"Doesn't have the meds we want." Jason heard everyone at command. "Gonna be a rough ride back on the kid."

"You're taking a clinic to get meds to ease Spenser's rough ride back to base?" Mathers exclaimed incredulously. "Are you fucking serious? McCall! Put a stop to this!"

"You think the staff will just hand over any meds they ask for, they walk in and ask nicely?" Eric shot back.

McCall hung his head. Not even an hour had passed since Bravo had taken the café and everything had gone to shit. He simply didn't understand how Davis and Blackburn continued to watch and monitor and wait so calmly. Yes, Spenser was one of his men, but he didn't know the men on Bravo personally, only ever dealt with Hayes, if this was the tension and suspense Bravo ground went through every time the team went on a mission, he had no idea how the two weren't nuts. Hayes demanded the impossible and yet, every single time, his ground support came through, for there was Davis, giving him both directions and coordinates to the location of the nearest clinic. Neither McCall nor Brause attempted to stop her.

Mmmmn, maybe Hayes hadn't been crazy when he'd demanded a woman from logistics be assigned to his team.


	5. Chapter 5

Wrapping it up, thanks for hanging with me….glad you all liked it.  
And yup! Um...prequel(?) coming soon.  
Happy Almost Fall! I know I'm rushing the season, but it's my favorite!

* * *

"What?" Trent stood over Sonny, hands on his hips. "I said call if he was puking blood. Is he?"

"How the hell do you manage not to puke right along with him?" Sonny growled. "Dammit Trent, he can't still be puking what he ate."

"He's not."

"Then what the hell is he?" Sonny demanded. "Isn't the purpose of drugging someone to make them, you know, unconscious?"

"Yup."

"Then what the hell is this?!" Sonny gave Clay a juggle. "This ain't normal. It can't be normal Trent."

"Don't do that." Trent warned. "If you're going to bounce him all over the place, give him to Brock."

Clay went pale; groaning as his stomach rolled and heaved from the oh-so-slight shake. He fought it, breath catching on a whimper, tongue licking at his lips, seeking moisture. Trent was reluctant to give him more water, since he puked it right back up every time, so he handed Brock a cup of ice.

Sonny held a hand up, palm sticky. "He's sweating like crazy. Not normal either."

"He's throwing a reaction to whatever they gave him." Trent was tired, the whole situation wearing on him. "We get him back to base, get him on an IV so he doesn't dehydrate, an antiemetic for the puking, he'll be more comfortable."

"Then what?" Sonny demanded.

"We wait it out."

"How long?"

"We have a way out yet?" Brock asked, offering Clay some ice, patiently letting it melt in his palm while Clay licked at the cold moisture. "He with it at all? Anything? Does he know he's with us?"

"Dunno Sonny, hours mostly likely." Trent sighed, shoulders slumping in weariness. Felt like this had all been going on since dawn. "Davis got us ground." He opened a bottle of water, took a drink. "He was mostly lucid once with Jason."

"You aren't serious." Sonny stared. "He moans you move him…..how are we going to make him ride on a truck?"

"Ride in one of the others, it bothers you," Trent watched Brock feed Clay more ice chips. "Jason's finding a clinic…."

"Oh, fuck no." Sonny sputtered, hugging Clay a bit too tight, making him grunt. "These local backward hacks ain't getting anywhere near him. Probably try and bleed him with leeches."

"….so we can take the meds I want." Trent finished. "They aren't even going to see him….sit him forward, he's…."

Sonny waved him off, letting Brock pull Clay out of his arms and up onto his knees. "Don't feel like this is ever gonna stop."

"He'll make it through this." Trent muttered. "Dunno if we will."

"Not without vodka." Brock muttered back.

Clay wasn't even attempting to spit anymore; he fought heaving, held his stomach and clenched his jaw. He wanted to lie down, kept trying to, but Brock wouldn't let him. Sonny cursed, got to his feet and moved off. He didn't go far. With a grimace, Trent slapped Clay upside the back of his head with a gentle swat.

"Sorry kid, you can't swallow that shit. Spit it out."

The smack was just hard enough it made Clay blow his breath out, and with it more, mucus and spit. Brock used the towel to wipe his mouth, Clay shaking against him. Cursing, Brock dropped the towel, held Clay with one arm and with the other, pulled the Velcro straps on his vest, letting the ammo pockets fall to the floor. His helmet, like Trent's was long gone. Didn't matter, everything would be rounded up, collected, removed and eventually find its way back to Davis who would then return it to its rightful owner. Trent moved to help him and soon, Brock wore only a long-sleeved shirt.

"That better?" Brock felt Clay relax somewhat, the shaking eased a bit and Clay slumped against him, fisting his shirt. "Yeah, thought so." He looked up at Trent. "He hurting so much cause he's still sore from last mission?"

Trent spread his hands, shrugged. "Hard to say with him, but I'd say yeah. He admitted the flight was harder than he'd thought it'd be."

"Do you need a stretcher?" Someone asked. "We're loading up."

Trent waved the man on his way. Strapping Clay down on his back wasn't going to happen.

"We've got him." Trent told them. "Thanks," he saw the signal from Ray to vacate the café, nudged Brock with his foot.

()

It took seconds.

Collett blinked and there wasn't a member of Bravo support in sight. One snap of his fingers and Hayes's men were in fluid motion. Sonny and Brock rose with Clay, and with the dog leading the way, snapping and snarling at anyone who didn't move out of her fast enough, carried Spenser from the café.

"Next time I see you," Jason was telling him. "Will be to wave good-bye when your ass boards a plane to some remote location."

"You don't have the balls to even request it." Collett scoffed. "And yet, there you stand, oh so cock-sure you'll get your way, not this time, asshole!"

"Why so confident Collett? Huh? 'Cause you think Brause is high enough brass he can save your ass? 'Cause you think that asshole Murray can somehow protect you?" Jason stepped forward, now nose to nose with Delta's chief. "Let me be the one to tell you just how wrong you are. You failed to read us in on your _whole_ plan, which was let it be known a Seal – and which one he was – was having lunch here, get taken and follow. Yeah, you wanted Clay to hear what they were saying, just not _here_ and you were willing to risk letting him be tortured to get it. Fuck you and your whole damn team."

"Perry." Collett turned to Ray but Ray was shaking his head. "The end goal was to get Fasih by any means necessary."

"I follow him." He pointed to Jason. "Don't even go there. Spenser's not an end to any means."

"Hayes, we are….." began Delta's senior chief. "We wouldn't have let them hurt Spenser, just hold him hostage a little while."

"What I can't believe is you were stupid enough to think I was going to allow that to happen." Jason felt Ray tugging on his vest. "How you could think I wasn't going to back up my man."

"Jace, let's go." Ray tugged a bit harder. Cerberus was in the doorway barking. "Hey, come on, they're waiting on us to load up so we can go." He eyed their dog who was waiting and if he didn't know better, counting. "There'll be a dark alley someday," he gave Ethan a look. "We'll get pay back."

"What was your plan to get him back once you realized you couldn't follow them?" Jason demanded, he waited but got no response. "What, no smart comeback? Yeah, what I thought, you prick."

Cerberus trotted forward, growled at Jason's heels, pushed her head into the back of his knee and nudged.

"We are supposed to work together." The senior chief tried again for calm.

"By not telling us what you really planned? By sending your newbie here to sniff out whether or not Spenser was hurt on his last mission and whether or not Jason would let you have him? Without a fight? Without us?" Ray shook his head. "You think Clay wouldn't tell us? Dunno what he said or did, but something convinced you to have our _entire_ team flown here. Let me tell you something, IF Jason, IF Eric had somehow agreed to let you take Spenser on this mission without Bravo, you would _still_ would have had to go through the _four_ of us to get to him and it's never going to happen."

Cerberus barked. She'd been told to retrieve Jason and she wanted to return to Brock, her mission accomplished. Ray gave her head a pat and Jason whistled her off.

"Watch your back Collett." Jason picked up the leash that trailed on the floor. "You haven't seen the last of us." and the last three remaining Bravo members left the café.

Collett looked around. His men stood waiting for instruction. Local authorities had breached his line of defense that, without the additional members from Bravo, had given way. The café was completely and utterly destroyed. Every last window had been shattered. There was a huge, hacked hole in the wall. Not a door remained on its hinges. No table or chair remained intact. Dishes and silverware and pitchers and glasses were broken and scattered across the floor and bar. What patrons had been in the café, huddled in a corner and nowhere, did one piece of equipment, clothing or any sign of Bravo remain.

"Sonofabitch!" Collett exploded. He'd been left with a mess to clean up and few answers to the many questions coming his way.

()

"Boat ride might have done him in…..motion sickness…."

They were all in the convoy truck, riding in the back under a canvas tarp, Clay laid on the floor amongst their feet, ten boots planted firmly around him so he didn't roll with the motion of the truck. He was on a canvas stretcher for what little comfort it offered against the hard floor, but not strapped to it, Trent still didn't want that. He only wore a t-shirt and jeans, and someone, somewhere had found blanket to toss over him.

"Leave it to Spenser to fuck up Delta's plan by up and dying on them."

"His captors wouldn't expect him to die from a simple date-rape drug."

"That what they gave him?"

"Or something like it."

"Straight up Trent, could this kill him?"

"Without us? Without medical treatment? Without watching him the next several hours? Yeah. Yeah, it could."

"He'd choke on what he doesn't want to puke up."

"Puking hurts."

"So, like Bon Scott, huh?"

"Do we need to stop at the clinic?"

"Yes." Trent was staring out the back of the truck through a gap in the flap. Make this ride with these guys with Clay, in pain, unresponsive and out of his mind? Not gonna happen if he could do something about it.

"He looks like shit."

"How fast can a guy dehydrate puking like this?"

"And sweating."

"Why would Fasih want a Seal alive anyway?"

"Yeah, and how did Delta know that?"

"That's what we need to find out."

The drive was not fast. They stopped, inched, crawled, stopped. The trucks were not made for comfort, didn't offer a smooth ride. Every pothole hit made Clay's bottom lip quiver. Whoever was keeping the road cleared for them, often led them onto sidewalks or pathways and every time the tires bumped up and then back down, he groaned. Every time the truck braked, he coughed. Every time the truck jerked forward as the driver released the clutch, he spit up. Even the rumbling, slight vibration of the truck idling made him whimper, sigh, his breath catch.

Trent didn't take his eyes off him, ready to turn him over or sit him up should he start to choke on vomit or bile he was either unwilling or unable to cough up and spit out.

"Brock!" Sonny barked patience and tolerance at end. "Enough! Christ!"

"What'd I do?" Brock protested, looking around. He'd been sitting quietly, Cerberus on the bench next to him, her head on her paws, watching Clay.

"Shut her up!" Sonny growled. "Christ, it's bad enough in here without having to listen to her whine."

Brock opened his mouth to retort, in no better mood than Sonny was. Did Sonny really think he was the only guy in the truck affected by Spenser in a puddle of pain at their feet?

"It's not the dog." Trent said quietly. "I told you he wasn't going to take the ride well, to ride in the other truck."

Sonny punched the metal support the truck's canvas was strapped to and moved to hang out the back over the tailgate.

"My turn, I've got him." Ray said quietly, hand on Trent's shoulder to keep him seated when he sighed and pushed up. Like Brock, Ray had rid himself of his vest, backpack, ammo pockets. "Hey, you're okay." he told Clay, who with the shift of mood in the truck, began to fidget. His knees came up and his heels dug into the floor. "Whoa, hey, where you going? Lie still." He moved up the bench seat so Clay could see him. "I'm right here."

Clay blinked, wishing his sight wasn't so blurry, the light not so dim. Wished he could think straight and that things, events, made some kind of sense. Wished he knew where he was and what had happened. Wished he could remember something, anything…..but all he knew was, he hurt and he didn't know why or how to make it stop. Befuddled as he was, rolling over and curling up on his side seemed like a good start.

Next thing Ray knew, he was on the floor, Clay between his legs, hand clutching Ray's shirt at the waist. Jason and Sonny, the only two still fully dressed, were standing at the back of the truck, guns ready. Jason cast a glance over his shoulder and cursed silently, kicking his heel against the tail gate in frustration.

"Sorry about this kid." Ray was saying, pulling the blanket up to cover Clay. Why, he didn't know, just a gesture of comfort, he guessed. "You're gonna be okay, you don't know that right now, but trust me." Clay stirred, squirming with a moan. "You hurt, I know," Ray sighed, "Our fault. I'd say we aren't going to let anything happen to you, but guess we did, huh? Guess we better get on the ball, take better care of you." Ray could hear the, 'congestion' in his chest, the thickness in his throat that he didn't attempt to cough up. "Yeah, no, you can't do that. Come on, cough it up and spit it out." A bit of a shake, some jostling and yeah, Clay lost the battle not to vomit. Ray held a towel to his mouth to catch it. "I know, heaving like that hurts. Just a bit longer, we'll get you some help."

Jason frowned, turning around as the tone of Ray's babbling changed, thinking, what now?

"You're probably thirsty, but Trent said you can't have any water, he brought some ice chips for you though."

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

"Nothing." Ray sighed, then, "Blood."

"A lot?"

"No."

"Trent expected it."

Trent, who, since Ray had moved to the floor to watch Clay, had lain down on the bench seat, arm crossed over his eyes. He didn't even twitch a thumb at Ray's announcement. Nothing to panic over. The team would remain calm as long as he did. He'd learned years ago that his guys wanted _his_ answer, not medical data or survey and poll results, they didn't want to know the reasons why or how come, they didn't care what four out of five doctors recommended, what Trent said was accepted, that was how Bravo rolled.

"Doesn't make it any easier to see."

Jason let his head rest against the side of the truck. None of this was easy. He'd been so sure he could protect Spenser despite only guessing at Delta's full motives. And he had, no one had made off with the kid, but where he and Eric had erred was the passageway. Granted, Bravo hadn't had time to scout the area, had had to depend on intel from Delta, who hadn't known about it either, but that didn't make Jason feel any better.

He simply hadn't suspected anyone would drug the kid and take off with him through an entrance Jason didn't have a team covering. The thought the kid could be all alone, on a boat somewhere, made his stomach resume its earlier rebellion. He quelled it with some difficulty.

"Collett ain't gonna see the sun for six months, right?" Ray gave Clay another half melted ice cube. "You're gonna bury him and that little prick Ethan whoever at whichever Pole is in darkness now, right? In a tent?"

"A year." Jason promised. "Mathers too." He flipped the flap open. "We're here." Ordering the other trucks to idle and the men to remain within, he, Trent and Sonny along with Cerberus entered the clinic.

Words weren't necessary, in a matter of seconds, the receptionist at the front desk was held at gun point, frisked, hands bound and face down on the floor. There were no patients in the room with her, so Cerberus was left to guard her and Sonny and Jason made their way through the hallways, kicking open doors, letting Trent search the rooms for the meds he wanted.

Brock, who hadn't gone in because he wasn't wearing his vest and had no helmet, waited on the tailgate of the truck, praying he didn't hear gun fire or any kind of alarm, he didn't and soon, the men were returning. Finally, one thing had gone their way.

"They have anything?" Ray asked.

"Not what I wanted." Trent hopped on first but the dog beat him to Clay's side, licking his ear in greeting. "Still?" he sighed. "Thought it'd let up."

"Still puking blood." Ray said. "Not a lot." The truck revved up, ready to pull out. Ray braced their weight with his feet against the bench seat, trying and failing to hold Clay still when the transmission jerked into gear. "Sorry kid."

Brock held a towel, wiping blood and spit from Clay's chin. The truck gained speed, shifted and Clay cried out.

"Hey, no, stay still." Ray reached for Clay's hand, letting him hold tight, wincing at the tight hold. "Sssh…..hang on."

"Gimme his arm." Trent dumped a bottle, a syringe, packets of wipes on the floor. "Bright red?" Ray nodded, "Most likely his throat, doubt it's anything worse." He tore a packet open with his teeth, swabbed Clay's arm. "Blood would be darker, it came from his belly. Don't let him bend."

"How long will that take to work?" Ray asked. "We've got what, another twenty minute ride?"

"We're lucky, five minutes." Trent uncapped the syringe, upended the bottle and inserted the needle. "Easy kid."

Shots didn't bother Clay, he didn't wince or flinch, let Ray hold his arm, but needles bothered Sonny. He shuddered as Trent stabbed Clay's arm and pushed the plunger.

"Fucking hate needles." Sonny complained. "God, you gotta just stab him like that?"

"From now on, you pack our med kit." Jason told Trent.

"I do." Trent muttered, but he knew what Jason meant. Pack what he wanted, not what was required or specified. Band-Aids and water-proof tape were useless when Clay was involved. "If we're gonna keep him, you should all, uh, you know, take a first aid course….again."

"IF?" Ray sputtered. "What do you mean, _IF?_ Try and take him from us, I dare anyone."

Trent grinned, giving Clay's knee a pat as he sat back, watching Ray protectively – and unknowingly – tuck the blanket around Clay - again. He gave him a hug before accepting another towel from Jason to wipe the sweat from the kids face - again.

"Hey there, more ice?" Ray offered. His butt was going numb, the vibrations from sitting on the floor made his spine tingle, but if holding Clay across his lap offered the kid some cushion against the trucks rough ride, well, Ray was just fine where he was. "Good, huh? Okay."

"He gonna remember any of this?" Brock asked, letting his head rest against the canvas and closing his eyes. "Wish we could forget."

"Not likely." Trent said, sitting up on the bench, reaching to pet Cerberus. "You wanna get up?" He asked Ray, who shook his head. "He's gonna be sore for a couple days, but he'll be up and around."

"He's not going anywhere." Sonny announced. "Right Boss? We're gonna keep him in quarters, agreed? He's got nowhere to go."

"Why does it feel like I've been running and got tackled then beaten up?" Brock yawned. "It's been what, two hours since we went after him?"

"We're not letting him out of our sight." Jason was as emotionally and mentally wrung out as his men were. "Christ, this day's never gonna end."


	6. Chapter 6

The thing about an unofficial, not U.S. military base consisting of tents, was its lack of a decent hospital. All this base boasted was an infirmary staffed by medics and an intern from – well, somewhere. And this intern, was a nervous ninny who panicked when a dopey, drugged, unresponsive Navy Seal who couldn't stop puking was brought in.

They reached base, were met by MP's and were escorted to command. Trent accompanied Clay to the infirmary, disobeying orders to remain with his team. He was not looking forward to the next eight or so hours and yeah, this was Clay, it would be that long. No way were they leaving the kid alone.

"Take care of him!" Sonny yelled. "Don't let no half-witted medic do it!"

The doctor hadn't yet arrived and the intern, in Trent's opinion - which meant it would be everyone else's opinion also - was a complete and utter moron.

"For Christ Sake!" Trent shoved the intern away from the table where Clay was sprawled on his back. "Give it here." He held his hand out, waggled his fingers for the needle, cursing the decision – since this had been a recon only mission – not to have flown with their doc, the doctor Jason had actually not taken an instant dislike to, so had been assigned to Bravo. Well, they knew better now. Never again. Not when they had Spenser with them.

"You cannot start an IV!" the intern squawked. "Not without a doctor's approval! You cannot think to do so. It is not done! Simply not done!"

Trent looked at Clay, who was still for the moment, chest heaving, stomach muscles contracting underneath his now soaked-thru t-shirt. He fought to keep his breath even and not start choking.

"Give. It. Here."

Trent snatched the needle port from the protesting intern. It wouldn't be long before Clay rolled over and started heaving again. He wouldn't be content to remain on his back for long. His head was rolling on the table, hair wet on his forehead, oh yeah, Trent knew the signs.

"Hold his hand." Trent ordered.

"You cannot insert that port into the back of his hand!" the intern gasped. "You must start with a proximal….."

"And if I blow the vein?" Trent shot back. He paused, drawing back, for he was sure the intern, who went pale and moaned when he heard those words, was going to faint and he didn't want the moron to hit him on his way to the floor.

He heard feet coming heavily, then his name. "TRENT!" the door opened and Eric was there.

"Hold his hand." Trent ordered. "Left."

Eric obeyed. "Jesus Trent, what did they do to him?" he demanded. "Jason said he was drugged! That's blood! No one said he was hurt."

"Blood isn't his." Trent didn't even look up. "Headshots."

"Jason?" he guessed. Aah, the basters who had picked Clay up and tried to carry him away. Yeah, no way Bravo would have left them alive.

"Ray."

Ray? Eric hadn't been expecting that. "I'm guessing he threw a reaction to the drug?" he questioned, watching as Trent found a vein and had the needle inserted before the intern ceased moaning. He tore the tape with his teeth, taped the port to Clay's skin and moved over to a cabinet.

"Of course he did." Trent went through the vials of medicine and selected the one he wanted. He wasn't neat. The intern complained as he hustled over to reset the bottles to their proper place. Trent held the vial up in one hand, a syringe in his other. "Do you really expect anything different?"

"Any idea what drug?" Eric asked. He gently pushed Clay down when he tried to sit up, stopped him from rolling over. Because if he rolled over, without pulling his weight back onto his hip, he'd roll right off the table. Trent would kill him, he let the kid fall off the table! "Spenser, hey, stay still."

"You gonna push this through, or am I?" Trent asked the intern. Good God, the man better pull it together before Jason and Sonny descended on the place. "I'm guessing a sedative, Rohypnol or the like."

"You can't just give him whatever you choose!" the intern flapped his hands in dismay. "We have to examine him and…what do you mean, you're guessing?!" he gaped, stunned.

"Fine." Trent tipped the bottle, inserted the needle, pulled the plunger back. "He's gonna heave." He warned Eric.

"Got him." he grabbed a basin, going around the clueless intern who still babbled Trent couldn't do what he was doing. "So, really, no idea how he's going to react, huh? Still just gotta guess with him."

"Just who is your superior?" the intern demanded. "I will see you disciplined. I will have you….."

"Right there." Trent pointed at Eric with the syringe before picking up the IV tube. "Easy kid, this'll help…..all's good."

The intern had nothing to say. In fact, under the intense glare Eric, whose rank he recognized by the insignia on his camo jacket, directed at him, he stepped back and stared at the floor. It was one thing for some Seal dude to come waltzing in and take over the infirmary like he owned it, it didn't matter if he knew what he was doing, he had no business taking over. But it was another for his superior to be right by his side, assisting him.

"You flying him out?" Eric asked. Clay was restless, no longer content to remain still on his back and Eric had no desire to hold him down. "Whoa there Clay, stay still."

"Don't wanna." Trent muttered. The needle he'd inserted had two lines and the intern finally pulled it together and hung a bag of saline. "That's gonna take a couple of minutes."

"He hurts, huh?" Eric said quietly. "Nothing really to do for him but wait for the drug to wear off, right?"

"Can stay with him. Let the guys see him. He's content, he sees someone he knows."

"McCall will have them released soon."

"Anti-nausea meds." The intern sniffed, holding the vial Trent had selected. "For vomiting." He pointed to the bag of fluid. "Keep him hydrated."

"Wow, you're all heart." Trent shoved him aside. "Stay out of my way. You think McCall will have much luck with Jason?"

"Ellis is there." Eric wasn't leaving. "So's Ray. And Delta's not back yet. Here, sit down, talk to me. Tell me what happened."

"Here?" the intern protested. "I think not. I must insist you leave at once, allow me to see to my patient."

"Your patient?" Trent snorted. "What the hell have you done for him?"

"Now see here, I hung his IV and…." the intern began, but Trent was having none of it.

"We aren't leaving him. Clean him up and leave him alone, you got that?" Trent waited. "You hear me?"

But the intern was not buckling under to Trent's authority, knew he didn't have to, Trent didn't out-rank him and this was his infirmary. He could have Trent removed and…..

"Petty Officer….." Eric waited. "Is there a problem here?"

"No, sir." He mumbled, staring at the floor. A Lieutenant Commander, however…

"Davis is having a doc flown in. He'll be here soon." Eric shoved a stool on wheels Trent's way. "Take a load off, you," he pointed at the intern, "Shut up. In fact, go away. I'll get some water. You want coffee?"

"Water's good." Trent said, swallowing several aspirin. "Thanks…..won't mind he sees a doc. He shouldn't still be puking up bile and fluid…..don't know why he is, where it's coming from. The blood is from his throat, it's irritated…..what the…..? HEY! The hell are you doing?" Trent was on his feet, swiping for the intern's hand.

The intern looked up, surprised by Trent's outburst. He held up the package he'd just opened in one hand.

"Obeying orders." He sneered. "Cleaning him up."

Eric sighed. "Trent, maybe you….."

"It is merely for oral care," the intern waved the pink sponge on a stick about. "Just a bit of mouthwash on a swab."

"Don't give him that." Trent snatched it from the intern's hand. "What's the matter with you? You stick that in his mouth, I'll punch you in the nose."

"Trent!" Eric scolded, because it was expected of him. Would Trent really punch the poor man in the nose?

"Jesus Eric, I had to stick my fingers down his throat to make him puke that crap out." Trent told him. "Stick anything in his mouth now, he's gonna heave. I'm not putting him through more of that."

Oh yeah, Trent would definitely punch the poor man in the nose.

"You _ordered_ me to clean him up!" the intern objected defensively. "I'm doing what I was _ordered_ to do."

"He's not holding water down." Trent shook his head. "And you know his gag-reflex." He said to Eric, who nodded. One of their favorite drinking games was to see who puked first…..usually Clay, because all they had to do was tease him into drinking from a straw.

Clay stirred, rousing to the tone of Trent's voice. His head rolled on the pillow, eyes opening…pupils still blown.

"Hey, I'm good." Trent moved into Clay's line of limited vision. "It's okay, you can go to sleep."

"He knows you're here." Eric said. "Doesn't come around though."

"Yeah, been that way since he went down. Long as he can see or touch one of us, he won't fight the effects of the drug. Came around once for Jason….just hate this. All the kid was supposed to do was eat lunch in a café."

"We didn't believe that." Eric rubbed his beard. "We didn't let anyone take him."

"I know." Trent picked up a pair of scissors to cut off Clay's wet t-shirt. "Just, the flight was hard on him. I know the doc cleared him to fly, but….." the intern took the hint and began to unlace Clay's hiking boots. "I'm not blaming anyone, but our boss has a hard time saying no to Ms. Ellis."

"You were against it." Eric guessed. "Him flying out so soon."

Trent shrugged. "I know him better."

"Then tell Jason," Eric ordered. "Or me. Jason would never choose Ellis and a mission over his team if it put one of you in danger."

"He just did."

"That's not fair." Eric reprimanded. "We agreed how to proceed with this mission. Spenser was not supposed to be in any kind of danger."

"But he was. Yeah, we stopped them from taking him, but not from drugging him." Trent waved a hand Clay's way. "This? You think this is okay? Yeah, he wasn't taken and tortured, but we ran on another team's intel and look what happened. I hate that."

"Murray brought Delta in, not Mandy. We did what we could Trent, Jason will always protect his men."

"Not always gonna be enough." Trent shook his head. "The kid is fucking miserable Eric, he shouldn't have to go through this because Delta fucked up."

"We had no way of knowing he would throw a reaction or suffer a side effect, hell maybe he's allergic."

"Jason...I told him...after our last mission...I mean, yeah, we're all snipers...Bravo, the team of shooters, Jason's the best, Ray has dead-on accuracy when he's pissed, but this kid, man...I mean, we can shoot whatever we aim for, headshot between the eyes, no problem, you want an eye shot out, Clay's your man, kid doesn't sweat."

"One of the reasons Jason selected him." Eric agreed. Oh, Clay had talent, no one could say otherwise.

"Our last mission...we knew he'd come after us, no doubt." Trent reached for the zipper on Clay's jeans. "What we didn't know is if he'd hesitate when he realized how young they were." he waited for the intern to remove Clay's second boot. "He didn't, just came steadily towards us, one shot, one kill...we're all high-giving and bam, the mother-fuckers try and blow him up."

"So, no giving him back, eh?" Eric remembered the entire mission. He'd sat miles away watching raw footage on a screen from a drone. Had lost comms, the picture too distant to see faces, just images. "Despite his ability to find trouble or get hurt wherever you go, he's worth keeping?"

Trent nodded. "He's part of us now." together, he and the intern soon had Clay comfortable and settled.

The meds took longer to take effect than Trent had thought they would, Clay making either him or Eric get up another three times before he finally calmed down, relaxing enough he eased into a light sleep.

"Jesus." Trent blew his breath out, hands interlaced atop his head. "Telling ya Eric, I don't ever want to go through another day like this one. Too hard."

"Not been an easy one." Eric agreed. "Go, get a shower, get changed, he's sleeping."

"You staying?"

Leave now, after Trent said Clay was only content when someone he knew was with him? "Yup, go on."

()

Clay stirred, first sense returning to him with any kind of normal behavior was his hearing…Credence's Bad Moon Rising played on a radio…..so either Sonny or Jason were nearby. He started to raise a hand but his skin pulled, drawing his arm up short, and he stopped with a frown, lifting his head instead to look down….IV.

"Hey."

Clay blinked, looking up. His sight was blurry, but he easily made out a hospital room…..correction, infirmary. Rails were up on either side of the bed and Jason casually leaned on the one to his left, fingers loosely laced.

"Know me?" Jason asked. "Tell me who I am Clay."

"Boss." Clay's tongue was thick, his mouth dry. Ugh. "Infirmary? What'd I do?"

"My name. Say my name."

Clay licked his lips, "Jason." he looked at his boss questioningly. Was he in trouble? What had he done?

"Yeah, what do you remember?"

His other arm wasn't restricted and he raised his hand to finger his damp curls, pushing his bangs off his forehead. He really didn't remember all that much. "The cider was sour."

"Anything else?"

Clay shook his head, then groaned. Ow, that hurt. "Everyone okay?"

"Bit on edge, been a long day waiting on you to wake up." Longer than even the doc had predicted. "They're all okay, job went sideways, but not your fault."

"Was I shot?"

"Drugged."

"Head hurts." He was quiet. His throat hurt, his stomach hurt, hell, his whole fucking body hurt, but he didn't say that. He tried to clear his throat, work up saliva, make his voice sound normal, but shit, that hurt too much. "Ow, what'd I do?" He laid his hand on his stomach. Christ, his belly was killing him, didn't feel like a gut punch, but man…he wouldn't be breathing deep or laughing anytime soon.

"Belly hurts, huh?" Jason lowered his head, buried his face in his hands. "You threw a reaction to whatever they drugged you with. Maybe an allergy, doc will let us know. Been a rough day, but you've been sleeping the last couple hours." Clay put a hand to his throat. "Yeah, hurts to swallow, huh? Gonna ache for a few days. Think you puked your intestines out. No lasting damage though."

"I'm staying here?"

Jason nodded, "Just until morning. Blood tests results will be back. Got you some ice cream, vanilla, but it'll be easy to swallow when Trent's ready to let you try having something to eat."

"Ice cream?" Clay shifted his weight, stopping with a wince. Oooch, didn't feel so good to move. "Over here? Wait, we flew out, right? Yeah, we did." he answered his own question. "We fly home?" He didn't remember a flight home. How drugged had he been? And for how long?

"Nope, still in Yemen."

"Well, well, well. If it isn't cutie pie." Sonny popped up next to Jason. "Look at those purdy blues looking all normal."

"Hey Spenser, good to see you awake." Lisa was with Sonny. "Boss, you still up?"

"Davis." Clay slanted a look Sonny's way. "Hey."

"Trent's still asleep, didn't have the heart to wake him." Lisa told Jason. "Ray went to find beer and Brock is with Eric filling out reports, so we're here to relieve you."

"Relieve him from what?" Clay was getting sleepy, didn't see the need to fight it and remain awake. His body was demanding surrender to oblivion and he really didn't see a need to deny it what it wanted.

"Babysitting you," Lisa said. "Go get a shower, lie down for a while Jason. You're beat." She waved towards the door.

"I'm good." Jason yawned. "I'll go help Eric."

"Brock is doing that. You were with command all evening, then came here." Sonny steered him towards the door. "Get something to eat and go to bed."

"They know he's awake, doc will be coming in to check on him, let me walk you out, give them some privacy, be right back Spenser." Lisa was saying, leading Jason from the room. Sonny remained.

"How much trouble am I in?" Clay asked sleepily.

"What?" Sonny mentally stumbled over the question. "Trouble? Why would you be in trouble?"

"Boss said, the job...failed."

"Not your fault. The blame lies with Delta. Dumb asses can't even survey a café." Sonny offered him a cup of water. "Guess you're allowed to have this. Don't see why it would be here, you weren't supposed to have it."

Clay took the cup with his free hand, drank from the straw and let Sonny take it back.

"How much do you remember?" Sonny asked. "You sure look better."

"Not much." Clay admitted. "Do I want to?"

"No." but his team wouldn't be forgetting any time soon. "We'll fill you in, doc's here to see you, then you can get some sleep."

Clay's last thought before falling asleep after the doctor was done poking and prodding was; if Bravo hadn't let him out of their sight after being blown off his feet, Stella better make up the sofa, 'cause this time, someone was going to be moving in.

If he'd seen Sonny's face, it might have occurred to him that _he'd_ be moving in with one of _them_.

()

Two days later, they were all eating breakfast in the tent that served as the base's cafeteria. Clay was with them, eating scrambled eggs and toast with no crust, bacon still beyond his ability to swallow.

"You're cleared to fly Spenser." Eric joined them with a cup of coffee. "Ready to go home?"

Clay didn't have anything to say. He didn't feel like a hammock and he would get along any time soon, but if the team made the decision to fly home, he'd go without complaint. He went where and when his team did.

"He's not flying anywhere." Trent announced. "Until we can hang him by his ankles and he doesn't puke or pass out, his two feet are staying on the ground."

"Yeah," Ray agreed. "Want to see him swallow bacon before we leave."

"And bend over." Brock added. "He can't even crawl up the ladder into his bunk."

Jason was quiet, watching the tracks he'd made with his fork in the maple syrup on his pancakes disappear. Fly the kid home sleeping in a hammock? No chance in hell that was going to happen.

"Since we have to stay," Sonny said slowly. "See if we can find this asshole Ellis wants so badly."

Eric looked at Jason. "Your call. Doc says he's cleared to fly."

"Doc at home said the same thing." Ray said. "We landed, kid couldn't walk."

"He doesn't fly until Trent says he can." Jason decided, stabbing a stack of bite-sized pancakes. "Can you get us green-lit to go after Fahis?"

"You willing to officially state you're going after him because he tried to take one of your own? Tromp on Delta? Roll them under the bus? Take the mission from them?"

Sonny snorted. "You really gotta ask?"

"Are they even still here?" Ray asked. "They lost the mission, we ain't taking it."

"What about this moron Murray dude?" Brock asked. "We get Ellis, right?"

"He doesn't go, less Trent agrees." Jason pointed at Spenser. "I'm in."

Eric nodded with a huge grin. "Done. Paperwork's on my desk."

***END***


End file.
